


Sweet Temptation

by Shay_Moonsilk



Series: Sweet Series [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Author knows nothing about current lawmaking, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cam work, Coming Untouched, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hand Feeding, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Underage, Past Abuse, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Sex, Sugar Baby!Aziraphale, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy!Crowley, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Ultimate service top Crowley you have no idea, Young Aziraphale, hurt aziraphale, sex worker aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-10-29 01:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 48,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20788211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shay_Moonsilk/pseuds/Shay_Moonsilk
Summary: Aziraphale is twenty-two years old, broke, and recently out of a long term relationship with someone who, in hindsight, had been a very bad partner. Anthony Jay Crowley - just Crowley, please - has built a legal empire that provides second chances to people in need. And by helping some of the most prolific people in the city, he is easily one of the wealthiest men around. His whole life he’s wanted to be the hero: the James Bond, the knight in shining armor. He’s going to get that chance.Will Aziraphale let him in?The prompt: Glucose Guardian (aka ‘Sugar Daddy’) modern au.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!! Rather then work on Grad School or Kingdom of Hell, or my other WIP, I thought a sugar daddy au needed to exist. Fuck me right?
> 
> This came to fruition through several discords that I am part of and then I HAD TO WRITE IT so here it is :)

Aziraphale loved to read. He _loved_ learning, and he _loved_ writing essays and exploring scholarly thought. In his high school years, teachers had told him he could be the next great MacArthur genius grant recipient. He could have gotten a Fulbright. But then he’d met Gabriel. 

Gabriel had been ten years his senior, but was going gray early. Aziraphale had _liked_ it - it had made him look so _distinguished_ and _dashing_. And Gabriel had been - dashing, that is. He’d loved taking Aziraphale to film premieres, restaurant openings, and different upscale events that filled his social calendar. Gabriel had been so  _ good _ at taking care of him. He had very quickly convinced Aziraphale to move in with  _ him _ instead of moving away and going off to college. Going to college would have taken him away from Gabriel, and Aziraphale didn’t want that, did he? No. He didn’t. Aziraphale had also considered locally enrolling in community college, which was what he could afford, but Gabriel hadn't wanted that. Such a thing was beneath his status. So Aziraphale didn't. Gabriel was very convincing, and Aziraphale had been convinced that Gabriel would take care of him. 

For three years, Aziraphale played the role of a housewife. He learned how to clean, do laundry, and cook for Gabriel, and in return, Gabriel always made sure _he_ was taken care of. It was a nice arrangement in the beginning. But that did not last. Really, in hindsight, the whole situation had been fraught, but Aziraphale had let himself get taken advantage of and regretted it. Gabriel began to restrict things - his diet, his time out, his ability to talk with others. Not that he ever really saw anyone else - the attorneys at Gabriel’s firm weren’t exactly  _ eager _ to speak with Aziraphale, normally. Gabriel also didn't like it when Aziraphale interacted with his colleagues at home, like his driver, or the doorman, or the mailman. But it started to resonate with him after a time that what was happening was wrong. And when Gabriel started to limit his ability to go outside more severely, Aziraphale put his foot down to tell him that this wasn’t  _ right _ . What erupted next was a  _ spectacular  _ fight, and Aziraphale decided to leave and take a walk to clear his head. When he got back to the apartment building, the doorman told him with no small amount of glee that he was no longer welcome in the building. 

So that brought Aziraphale to where he was - twenty-one, broke, and homeless. The next couple of months were something of a nightmare. He had to start over completely and find different ways to support himself. In the beginning, he took up odd jobs as a waiter or barista to earn money, and found a bed to rent week to week through hostels and boarding houses. But after a while, it became prudent to find a studio of his own that he could be _safe_ in. He had kept a backpack of items, and would hide it under his bed, but too often he would find it stolen from him. It was necessary if he ever wanted to be more than this he would have to move. He couldn't move far though, so he needed to get a studio. This was still a dangerous area, so whatever privacy he could get was vital. 

That was how he fell into cam work. The rundown building he moved into - using every cent he had as the down payment - would accept month to month rent and a full five day grace period for rent payments. The landlord was very clearly nefarious, but Aziraphale was out of options. His neighbor, affectionately named "Madame Tracey" was the one who got him into cam work. She herself had clients come to her place, and offered a number of discrete services as a dominatrix. It was all to pay her way through her medical residency - it was also a fun hobby. He tentatively asked if he could do what she did, but she laughed for a very long time. 

"You couldn't dominate a vibrator," She had said, not unkindly. Instead, she told him to sell a _fantasy_. That was his best bet. She helped him with his channel, to get on the same website she used, and he was set to go. 

He chose the screen name ‘_Angel_’, at her urging  _ ("It's the curls love" _ ) and began to do his own work. It was slow-going in the beginning, but Gabriel had always told him that he had a good body. And soon he gained enough of a following that he was able to support his rent payments. The money was alright - not great - but it let him keep his own apartment and buy the occasional full meal to accompany his usual cup of noodles. And if he was lucky, he could get makeup. It was far from the suite Gabriel had, but this was much better than the life he left. The cam work was  _ empowering _ for him - before, Gabriel had always demanded total control, and demanded Aziraphale worship  _ him _ in bed, and put his needs first. He worked so hard everyday, and always _demanded_ to be taken care of. Aziraphale had been so caught up in the flow and pattern that he hadn’t realized just how  _ exhausting  _ it had all been to be so single mindlessly focused on Gabriel's pleasure for so many hours in the day. Now he got to focus on  _ himself _ , and it was  _ nice _ . 

Aziraphale was trying to work on himself - and that was what brought him to the bar one year after his forced emancipation. Also his twenty-second birthday! Normally he didn’t go out, but he’d saved for a couple weeks and wanted to enjoy himself that night. He let himself dance on the floor, trying to ignore the strangers that were staring at his body. 

Well, ignore  _ most _ of the strangers. 

\-----

“If you stare any harder you’ll bore a hole in the poor thing,” Anathema scoffed. She was perched on a bar stool, teasing one of the lead attorneys at: Morningstar, Crowley, & Fly. 

Anthony Jay Crowley, Jr,, or, _Crowley_ as he liked to be called, didn’t pay attention to her. His attention was caught up in the metaphorical  _ angel  _ on the dance floor; surrounded by people but just enjoying himself. It was adorable. 

“Don’t try and distract him,” Ligur sneered, “Crowley likes to find pretty faces for a night and do nothing about it.” Without looking at him, Crowley raised his middle finger. Anathema laughed. 

Crowley decided he’d had enough of their teasing, and made his way through the crowd. He naturally exuded an era  _ demanding _ that no one mess with him. At thirty, he’d perfected the art. People moved out of his way, until he was standing in front of the blond. 

Aziraphale looked up, startled at the sudden visitor. At first, he wanted to tell him to kindly step off, but then he got a look at his new companion. And, well. 

“Hello, my dear,” Aziraphale said, as if they were the same age. He gave his tall friend a grin, trying to tell his own heart to stop hammering in his chest. “What is your name?”

_ My dear,  _ what was he, an old man? Crowley gave a fond little scoff. “Name’s Anthony Jay Crowley, but _Crowley_ is what I prefer. Now, can I have your name? Because I nicknamed you ‘angel’ from across the room.” 

Aziraphale’s whole demeanor changed. Where he had been eyeing Crowley with interest just a moment prior, his eyes suddenly filled with pain. Embarrassed, Aziraphale bolted from the dance floor. Honestly, how rude! His stomach formed into a  _ pit _ , and he furiously brought up a hand to wipe away the tears that formed. He didn’t care about smearing his eyeliner, which was such a  _ shame  _ because he had done such a wonderful job applying his makeup too. 

Crowley liked to believe that he was good with words and conversation - he wouldn’t have gotten very far in his career if he hadn’t. So watching the bright young man get that  _ distraught  _ look on his face and run from the dance floor had thrown him. Without thinking that maybe he’d rather not, Crowley took off after him. 

“Hey, wait, I’m sorry,” Crowley had longer legs, giving him an advantage to catching up with the mysterious angel. Gently, he moved in front of him, and reached up to brush the tears from the angel’s face. “Did I say something wrong sweetheart?” 

Aziraphale gave a small sniffle. “Why, why would you call me angel?” Why in  _ public _ ? He did his work in  _ private  _ after all. It would have been nice to get away from the association on one of his first nights out. 

“There was a glow about you. That smile you had, the way you moved on that dance floor,” Crowley grinned. “I couldn’t resist the moniker. Do you have a name?” 

Oh. So… he didn’t know about.  _ Well _ . Aziraphale gave a little blush. He meant angel for an entirely  _ different  _ reason. It felt  _ nice _ . 

Crowley gave a grin at the blush he got when his new friend realized he was being genuine. “I wonder. If you’ll let me see how far down that blush goes sometime.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes widened at the  _ forwardness  _ of that statement. Crowley let out a laugh. _Adorable. _

“Let me get you dinner, my way of saying sorry for making you upset,” Crowley offered, and Aziraphale swallowed. He wasn’t about to say  _ no _ to food. 

\-------

“So you’re name is  _ actually  _ Aziraphale,” Crowley said, for the fifth time. 

Aziraphale gave a laugh. “For the fifth time,” He said teasingly, “It  _ is  _ my real name.” 

They were sitting at a diner, the closest restaurant nearby that would still be open at this time of night. Crowley had told him to order whatever he wanted, and Aziraphale hadn’t eaten that day aside from a cup of noodles. In between bites of his food, Aziraphale answered whatever questions Crowley had - for the moment, it seemed that he was stuck on the fact that his actual name was Aziraphale.

“I can’t believe you had two parents that thought, wait, how old are you?” Crowley pressed. 

Aziraphale swallowed, finishing his food. “I’m twenty-two.” 

Crowley snorted, grinning. “Twenty-two. That’s insane.” He was  _ so young. So cute.  _ “So you had two parents in  _ this century _ decide that Aziraphale was perfectly normal name in this lifetime.” 

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste,” Aziraphale shrugged, ignoring the painful mention of parents. He’d lost them when he was nineteen. He missed them everyday, but was also glad they didn’t have to see what happened with ‘the nice man that looked after him’. Instead, his gaze fell on the menu that offered desserts on their table - as a means of distraction and comfort. How very badly he wished for pie. That sounded so lovely right now. And maybe hot chocolate. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out the different names and descriptions. The words were rather fuzzy, as they usually were. If it weren’t rude, he would have picked the menu up and held it against his nose so he could see it more clearly. That usually worked. 

“What about you, why do you like to be called Crowley when Anthony is a  _ perfectly  _ dashing name?” Aziraphale pressed, still eyeing the menu. 

“Oh, _dashing_ am I?” He grinned, and Aziraphale rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t do unnecessary flattering, you know perfectly well you are an attractive man.” 

Aziraphale squinted, still trying to make out the words. The wandering eye was not lost on Crowley. But it was amusing to him. Aziraphale wanted to play coy? That was cute. Crowley didn't do well with subtly - too much of it in his line of work. He waived over the waitress, asking Aziraphale what he’d like to order. 

Aziraphale’s eyes went wide with embarrassment at being _noticed_, and Crowley got treated to more of that  _ delectable  _ blush. Worth it. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I can’t,” Aziraphale said to the waitress. This was already well over his food budget for the next few days - just in case Crowley didn’t want to end up paying. 

“No, no, this is my treat,” Crowley pressed, “And I want your eyes on _me_, not the _menu_.” He gave a smirk though, to make sure Aziraphale knew that he was only kidding. 

The waitress was looking  _ enchanted  _ by the whole display. “You should keep him love,” She whispered to Aziraphale as he ordered. Crowley snickered as she walked away. 

“This is really very nice of you,” Aziraphale said, “I don’t know how to pay you back.”

Crowley gave him a lazy kind of smile. “Just give me your company,” He said, “And if you can blush every now and then, I’ll be a lucky man indeed.”

When the pie came out, Aziraphale asked Crowley again to hear his own story. So, Crowley regaled him about the tale of a young man who wanted to defend people, and advocate for second chances. This inspired him to establish his own firm with his two closest friends from Law School - Lucifer Morningstar and Beelzebub Fly. He had grown up in this world - Anthony Crowley Sr. was the state’s District Attorney - going into law was in his blood. 

Aziraphale knew about that firm - he remembered how Gabriel used to complain about a ‘young upstart firm’ that was causing his own to lose cases towards the end of their relationship. Secretly, he had been impressed, and taken with the idea that there was a group of lawyers trying to make sure people would get proper representation. And the fact that they were able to balance out pro bono work for those in need by taking in cash flow from wealthier clients seemed a sensible and self-sustaining model. But he had made sure  _ not  _ to tell Gabriel that. But with no such compunction holding him back, he let Crowley know how much he admired his work. With vague terms, of course. One doesn't bring up exes on a first date after all. 

“Thanks,” Crowley grinned at him. “I like it too. But it takes a lot of my time. We’re celebrating a win tonight - it’s what brought my colleagues and I out. What were you celebrating love?” 

Aziraphale swallowed nervously. He was going to sound rather  _ ridiculous _ to this big-shot lawyer. But. Crowley had already seen him cry and seen his eyeliner run, so maybe it wouldn’t go so poorly. 

“I got out of a … bad relationship, some time ago,” Aziraphale said. He tried to use delicate phrasing, but Crowley knew euphemistic language when he heard it. “I’ve been working on getting on my own footing, and I finally feel like I’ve gotten a start on it over the last year.” 

“Well that’s good for you! So we really are celebrating,” Crowley grinned. “What are you doing that lets you wear pretty makeup?” 

Aziraphale took a breath. Better be honest up front. “I… I do cam work. My channel does decently well, my name there is ‘angel’.” 

A light of recognition dawned for Crowley. “So you thought I was… oh hell. I’m sorry angel -  _ Aziraphale _ ,” He corrected, glaring at himself. 

“It’s alright,” Aziraphale said, “Yes, at first I thought you were trying to reference that and I was annoyed. But then you were just so nice and I realized what you really meant. I… I don’t mind it if you call me angel. It feels nice and reassuring from you.” 

“Well, thank you  _ angel,”  _ Crowley purred, grinning at the blush he got. 

Thankfully, Aziraphale _didn’t_ ruin their night, and they left the diner arm in arm, to the delight of their waitress. Crowley took care of the bill, as he promised, and they walked along in the dark. They didn’t get farther then making out deeply against a tree, but Crowley managed to get a promise out of Aziraphale that they would see each other next weekend. 

\-------

For the next week, Crowley and Aziraphale spend their time texting in between Crowley’s meetings. On weeknights, Aziraphale did his own cam work. After a few nights, he gave in and sent Crowley his channel. So when they couldn’t talk, Crowley could at least have that. It was  _ nice. _

The next weekend, Aziraphale met with Crowley back at that same bar, but Crowley brought him to his apartment. He even owned a _Bentley_ \- and Aziraphale had never made out in one of  _ those _ before. But they did, and Aziraphale  _ writhed  _ in Crowley’s lap while his hands groped at his chest. 

For Crowley’s driver, Hastur LaVista, it was a match made in hell. He did  _ not  _ like having to listen to Crowley talk on the phone in a sappy voice to a twenty-two year old on weeknights. It was  _ embarrassing _ . And the twenty-two year old was such a blond  _ airhead _ . Aziraphale had too pretty a face to be intelligent, Hastur was  _ sure  _ about that. 

Aziraphale, for his part, was used to making out with Gabriel with drivers in the car. None of those drivers were as closely acquainted as Hastur was with Crowley though - they had apparently been acquainted ever since Crowley graduated from Law School. Instead, Aziraphale did his best to focus on the man kissing him so deeply, and enjoy that. He had already made the mistake of trying to befriend other people in Gabriel’s life: his different drivers, the cleaning staff, the doorman, and that hadn’t worked out so well. He’d thought they’d liked him, but it had all been an act. The staff had apparently talked poorly about him behind his back, and had been all too gleeful when Gabriel had kicked him out. So now he knew better - don’t try and befriend Crowley’s friends. Just enjoy Crowley while Crowley liked him. And until Crowley decided the relationship was over, Aziraphale was going to do his best to be worthy of his time. 

And  _ oh, _ Crowley was such a wonderful lover. Aziraphale had fallen into bed with him when they met that next weekend. This arrangement was rather  _ involved _ , Crowley enjoyed having him  _ every _ night that they spent together. 

It was  _ exhausting _ , but sex with him was far more enjoyable. It was exhausting because Crowley always wanted to be so  _ active.  _ Gabriel had preferred it when Aziraphale gave him blowjobs, or rode him, and then he would sleep. If Aziraphale was still unsatisfied, he’d masturbate in the bathroom if he were in the mood. Usually, he would have just fallen asleep. 

So it was a very different change of pace to have a lover that was committed to being  _ active _ in every sense of the word. It was a lot though - he liked going multiple rounds. And Aziraphale really liked him! He really did. If he weren’t so naive, he would have even called it love. But he knew better - this was  _ infatuation _ . Crowley was  _ infatuated _ with him - he was young, semi-independent, had a unique job, a pretty face, and could make a killer smokey eye. He was a pretty thing to join Crowley at restaurants and plays, and have sex with every weekend night. That was his value in the world.

But Sunday, without fail, he would shower after having sex with Crowley, get in the car, and be driven back to his neighborhood while Hastur scowled at every light to change faster. 

Every night when he went to stream on his channel, he watched hundreds of anonymous men tune in to view ‘angel’. He received tips, suggestions, and even the occasional marriage proposal when he made a particularly pleasant moan during his sessions. It helped him feel empowered, like he was in control and could just focus on himself. In the beginning he had really enjoyed it. Gabriel had always been focused on his own pleasure, Aziraphale had been secondary. This had been such an empowering way for him to put himself first, and if people sent him money then that's their prerogative. 

But every now and then, he would get a text from Crowley after streaming that would say,  _ You were beautiful tonight darling _ , or,  _ I bet I could make you moan louder this Friday,  _ or,  _ Good job arching your back, I know you were stretching and it paid off.  _ It was really very sweet, and it gave him a happiness he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Aziraphale just wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. 

\--------

Crowley was pretty sure he was in love. Anathema, his legal assistant, liked to joke with him that as a lawyer, he couldn’t feel love. But now he knew that was bullshit. Aziraphale was perfect - a literal angel on earth. Crowley looked forward to Fridays, excited to meet with Aziraphale and start their weekend together. It was the best part of the week. 

For months now, they’ve had this arrangement. Aziraphale will come over Friday, as Crowley gets off of work. They’ll go somewhere - a play, a movie premiere, whatever event Crowley was expected to make an appearance for. If there’s time they’ll get dinner before, or wait and go somewhere after. Aziraphale had impressed him the first time they went to a fine dining establishment. He had expected to lean over and explain the menu items to Aziraphale, and the nature of the courses, and how wine pairings worked (which would also have been a nice excuse to whisper in his ear and see if he could get the blush back) only to look up as Aziraphale  _ asked their waiter for the right year for a pinot to pair with the steak.  _ That had been so much hotter than the fantasy. Crowley had him in the bathroom the  _ minute _ after they ordered. He’d asked Aziraphale how he knew so much about wine, but Aziraphale shrugged him off with a different question about his work - which had also been a little too well-informed for someone who wasn’t an attorney. 

Aziraphale was an enigma - for certain. Someone Crowley wanted to learn more about, and spend as much time as possible. 

And he was  _ adorable.  _ The moment Crowley knew he was in for it had to have been their second week together. They had woken up that Saturday morning, and Aziraphale had apparently been in the mood to cook a full breakfast for them. So while he prepared eggs and bacon, Crowley did what he did best and went to make some coffee. 

“How do you take your coffee?” He had asked Aziraphale. 

He got a plaintive  _ hum _ while his angel flipped the bacon. “I usually prefer mochas, with cream, sugar, and no coffee.” 

It was said with such a straight face that Crowley couldn’t help but laugh. “So you want hot chocolate,” He teased. 

“That is another word for it,” Aziraphale agreed, and then gave a little  _ wiggle _ when he saw Crowley grab a mix. For his part, Crowley knew he was  _ doomed _ . 

It made Sunday nights so painful. He  _ loved _ a good cuddle after sex, but Aziraphale must not enjoy that as much. His angel always went to shower, and give him a quick peck before going home with Hastur, and they spent their weeks apart before Friday came around and he got his angel again. 

He also had the cam work to tie him over, in the days between when they saw each other. The jealous and possessive part of him  _ hated  _ seeing the messages Aziraphale would get when he was in the height of his pleasure. Crowley didn’t like the fact that so many people got to see what  _ his,  _ not  _ their  _ Angel looked like. But only  _ Crowley _ was the one who could call him angel and get a genuine smile in return. And only he got to see that wonderful blush in person, and trace how far down it went with his tongue. Besides, it was the twenty-first century. If his boyfriend wanted to show off his very attractive body and get money for it, then by god Aziraphale should get what he wanted. But deep down, Crowley harbored a fantasy where he could keep Aziraphale to himself, and take care of him. If he wanted he could still do the cam work, but he could  _ also  _ spend all day reading in Crowley’s office. He could picture him, leaning over his throne, completely naked. 

Crowley grinned, getting ready to text that fantasy about the throne to Aziraphale as soon as soon as he finished his session. This was his own heaven. 

\--------

Hastur was watching two idiots circle each other, and he was in hell. 

Crowley was gone and smitten, pure and simple. It was such a stupid move. Who is dumb enough to fall in love with their sugar baby? Hastur’s boss, that’s who. Ligur laughs at him as he rants about it, because he and Ligur are the ones that work for the Partner. So what did that make them, anyway? 

Hastur watched, and drove, as Crowley took Aziraphale out all over their city, weekend after weekend. And he watched as Crowley would  _ smile  _ in that sappy disgusting way at that _stupid angel_ in a way that Hastur prayed he’d never done with Ligur. 

But mostly, Hastur watched Aziraphale. 

In the beginning, he’d been convinced that Aziraphale was some blond bimbo who just wanted a pretty necklace and dinner. Then, he overheard him ask Crowley questions in the car about his day and his work, in between kisses, and was half-convinced that he was a spy from their rival firm. He’d obviously dated a prosecutor before, or someone in the legal world. But that notion was dismissed pretty quickly, because Aziraphale did not have the makings of a spy. He had  _ no _ poker face. 

Which was all the more disturbing that Crowley didn’t see the act that Aziraphale was trying to put on. That Aziraphale was trying to enjoy everything  _ so much _ out of a desperate need to _please Crowley_ and be _liked_. It was almost heartbreaking. And stupid. So stupid. How did Aziraphale not see how gone Crowley was? He was smarter than that.

And Hastur was the biggest fool of all, because he was getting pretty worried about Aziraphale. 

The first time he had taken him home, Hastur had honestly been an asshole. Aziraphale had a difficult time giving him directions - he kept squinting at the street signs, and Hastur had to read some of them. At the time, he’d thought it was an act. Then they got to Aziraphale’s neighborhood, and Hastur had been  _ convinced  _ he was pulling some sort of prank. No way did Aziraphale live there. It was a completely run-down building. There was someone very obviously doing drugs on a sidewalk. The streetlights were all flickering and it was nearly completely dark. He was pretty sure he could hear a gun firing from a distance. But Aziraphale had just gotten out of the car, and said goodbye. It was the same thing next week, and the week after. 

It occurred to Hastur that Aziraphale actually lived there, and wasn’t just pretending to make him drive out of his way. 

“Crowley isn’t going to like this,” Hastur said as he dropped him off one week. “You shouldn’t be living here.” 

“Crowley doesn’t need to know,” Aziraphale replied, narrowing his eyes. “I’m here to make his life easier, and for him to have a nice weekend. This,” he gestured around to indicate the neighborhood, “Does not fit the image of me that he needs.” And he left the car before Hastur could pick his jaw up off the floor to reply to  _ that.  _

Another time, he picked Aziraphale up as he watched a man sell drugs to another. And as Aziraphale walked to his car, the man selling actually  _ had a short conversation _ with him before he got into Hastur’s car.

“Why were you talking to him?” Hastur growled, as they pulled off. He  _ better not _ be using. 

Aziraphale looked confused. “That’s my landlord. He was just reminding me about rent.”

Hastur gaped. “That drug dealer is your  _ landlord _ ?”

Aziraphale didn’t understand why he was so shocked. “He’s also a taxi driver, a food deliveryman… anything that takes up his time so he doesn’t have to answer calls about the broken water heater.” He let out a snort that Hastur did  _ not _ join in on. 

All this was painting a very ugly picture for him. Aziraphale understood enough about high society to not need a primer at any event Crowley brought him to. But  _ this  _ was where he lived. Something had happened to him. Something bad. 

But instead of asking about it, he tried to go for a forced nonchalance. “Your water heater’s broken?”

It didn't fool Aziraphale for a moment. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Aziraphale sighed. 

“Do what?” Hastur asked.

“Pretend to like me,” Aziraphale explained. “I know that you think I’m just something pretty that Crowley is distracted by. You probably think I’m an airhead, or out to get secrets about where he works, or just something very pretty without anything substantial.” He let out a shuddering breath. “And - and that’s fine. It’s okay that you don’t like me, I’m perfectly fine to sit here in silence until I get to see him. You don’t need to pretend to be interested in the fact that the water heater never works, or how the heating in the building hasn’t been turned on since before I was born.” 

Hastur felt very uncomfortable in that moment - because he didn’t know how someone could read him so well  _ and _ so poorly at the same time. Because Aziraphale was right, that was  _ exactly _ what Hastur had thought. Had. But now he knew that he was going to have to look after this kid. He’d better call Ligur later for advice his husband was much better with kids. 

“You know,” He said, letting his tone go as gentle as it could, “You’re not  _ that  _ pretty. Not my type, anyway.”

Aziraphale let out a startled  _ laugh _ . He had expected Hastur to just say nothing, and finally let them both sit quietly. It was… kind of nice to hear a joke out of him. He could recognize an olive branch, anyway. “Excuse you,” He said, giggling, “I am  _ everybody’s  _ type.” 

“Nah,” Hastur grinned, flashing a wink through the rearview mirror that Aziraphale could see. “My type’s tall, dark, and handsome. You’re  _ tiny,  _ pale like  _ paper _ , and  _ adorable.”  _

“Well at least you admit I’m adorable,” Aziraphale snarked. Then he pondered his words. “Is there someone who fits ‘tall, dark, and handsome,’ Mr. LaVista?”

“Don’t you  _ ever _ call me that again,” Hastur growled, “I’m Hastur. And yeah, I’d say my husband fits the bill.” 

And then all Aziraphale wants to do is hear about Ligur. Hastur loves talking about his husband, and Aziraphale clearly loves hearing about love. By the end of it, the car is pulling up to Crowley’s flat - they’re staying in that night - and Hastur is calling his husband to tell him they’re taking in Crowley’s sugar baby. 

\----------

Crowley has the most  _ ridiculous _ home office Aziraphale had ever seen. It had a  _ throne _ for a chair. What was that about? He’d laughed about it, and Crowley got a certain  _ look _ in his eye. 

“What?” He asked. Crowley gave him a dark grin - the kind that sent a pleasant  _ shiver _ through Aziraphale. 

“Get in the seat Angel,” He cooed. Aziraphale was quick to obey, slowly taking off his own clothing as he did. He gave Crowley a little smirk over his shoulder, knowing full well that Crowley said  _ nothing _ about his clothing. 

Crowley chuckled, stalking after him. “Have something in mind?” He asked, mockingly. “Do you think you’re in charge baby?” 

Aziraphale primly sat down, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He said, blinking up at Crowley in a fake show of innocence. “I just took a seat, like you said.”

“I have a  _ brat _ on my hands,” Crowley was  _ delighted _ . His angel was  _ perfect _ . 

“Spread your legs,” He ordered, and Aziraphale did, slowly. But Crowley didn’t kneel between them - he would, for certain. But first he gently ran a hand through his curls, delighting in the little keens and noises Aziraphale didn’t even realize he was making. Then, he gave it a firm  _ yank  _ back and Aziraphale let out a gasp and a moan. Crowley devoured him in a kiss, gentle pushing his shoulders to the back of the chair. He moved his mouth down, letting his teeth sink into that sensitive spot near his ear. Aziraphale gives a  _ whimper _ and Crowley works a mark into the skin there - placing more bites along the way as a reward for his bratty behavior. 

Without lifting his head, Crowley moves Aziraphale's hands to the arm rests, with a silent command to keep them there. Crowley leisurely kisses his way down Aziraphale's body, pausing to give the occasional nibble or bite to spots he knows will make his angel moan. As he swallows him down, Aziraphale’s grip tightens on the arm rests as he cries out in _bliss_. 

Much later, when he’s had Aziraphale twice more on the throne, and once over the desk, Crowley asks if he’s hungry. It’s a silly question, Aziraphale is  _ always _ hungry. He’d decided to forgo his food budget that day to buy some make up in anticipation for tonight - looking nice for Crowley was more important, in his opinion. Not that Crowley knew that. Crowley instead just thought he always had an appetite, and thankfully he enjoyed watching Aziraphale eat. 

So they enjoy takeout - Italian - from one of Crowley’s favorite places. Aziraphale lets him order, not in the mood to try and make out the tiny print of the takeout menu. Crowley has excellent taste anyway - Aziraphale had always needed to make sure he ordered for himself when he was with Gabriel, especially because he started heavily pushing  _ salads _ towards the end of the relationship. It was nice to not be on his guard so much with Crowley, at least for now. Crowley opens up a bottle of wine, and they enjoy their food when it arrives a little too soon after it’s been ordered. It must be a perk of Crowley ordering it. 

“I wanted to surprise you, for next week,” Crowley said, “But I’m too impatient.” 

“I can pretend to be surprised next week,” Aziraphale offers, but he shakes his head. Instead, Crowley passes an envelope over the table towards him. Aziraphale takes the envelope, and opens it. Crowley waits in excitement, but first Aziraphale has to  _ narrow _ his eyes to look at the text. He holds it up towards his face, and then gives out a delighted gasp. 

“It’s  _ Madame Butterfly _ !” He gave a smile. “I’ve always wanted to see this one!” He’s said as much to Crowley, after they saw  _ Salome _ a month prior. But it had been something he’d said as a throwaway, not realizing Crowley had taken it to heart. 

“That’s not all,” Crowley added, “Because before the show I made a reservation for us at the Ritz.”

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. Crowley chuckled as Aziraphale realized he let his face do something so  _ embarrassing _ without his permission - it was  _ adorable.  _ Crowley was aware at how hard his angel worked at how he was perceived - more then once he had caught his young man making certain faces in the mirror, only to duplicate it later on the camera when he  _ worked _ . So sometimes Crowley liked to see if he could break that control - and always enjoyed the results. Nevertheless, he let Aziraphale reign in control and try to demure his earlier excitement. Aziraphale went back to eating. “That’s… that’s so impressive, my dear. How did you do that?”

_ Gabriel _ had never been able to get a table there. It had always been a sore spot for him. Aziraphale tried not to think about that here, but it was hard not to. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Crowley waived away, “Just wanted to do something special, it’s been six months afterall.”

Aziraphale kept eating, but on the inside he was so  _ conflicted _ . On one hand, it was so nice that Crowley was so excited for their six month anniversary! And he looked forward to what that could mean. But did that mean he thought of their relationship as something more? Did they celebrate anniversaries? He never had before. Did that mean Crowley liked him?

No, it couldn’t be that. Aziraphale was so confused. 

“What’s got you all twisted?” Crowley asked, leaning forward. He rested his chin on his hand, peering over at Aziraphale. 

Oh! He was being so  _ stupid _ . Crowley had just given him something very  _ very _ special! Clearly, he expected  _ something _ for that. 

“Just thinking,” Aziraphale wondered, giving him a sly smile, “How I should best  _ thank you  _ for this gift.” 

Crowley smirked at him. “Ready to  _ go _ , already?” He gave a laugh. “You’re adorable. I don’t think I could go again for all the tiramisu in the world.” With that, he reached up to pull out a tiramisu, and slid it across the table. 

Something uncomfortable  _ welled _ up in his throat, and Aziraphale passed it off with a little laugh. “Well, what would you like then?” He asked. Crowley carefully scooped some of the dessert onto a spoon, and reached over to  _ feed  _ it to him. 

“We’ll go shopping tomorrow,” Crowley said, “And when you meet me at the Ritz, I want you to wear  _ exactly _ what we buy tomorrow. Can you do that for me?”

Aziraphale blushed, and nodded. For Crowley, he expected he would do nearly anything. 

\--------

They end up getting him a suit tomorrow, a beautiful navy one that Crowley can’t take his hands off of. It’s accompanied with cufflinks that are a silver - apparently they match a pair that Crowley has. And lastly, there’s a  _ watch _ . 

Oh, Aziraphale  _ loves _ watches. Cell phones are nice and all, but there’s  _ something _ about a watch that reflects such a treasured moment where people didn’t have the world at their fingertips, and relied on human interaction and each other to keep passage of time. There’s also the added bonus of not needing to read such small text on a screen - a watch, a  _ good  _ watch allows you to  _ always _ know the time. He gets into his little tirade when they’ve left the store, and after a moment he realizes that Crowley is just  _ staring _ at him. From the rear view mirror, so is Hastur. 

“Um. Oh. Sorry, I think I got quite carried away there,” He gives a nervous laugh, but he can’t stop fidgeting with it. Aziraphale is cursing himself. Why did he let himself get so carried away with his little rants? Gabriel used to  _ hate _ that. 

“ _ A treasured momento of a bygone era _ ?” Hastur repeats, and snorts. “How are  _ you _ the youngest one in this car right now? I haven’t owned a watch for longer than you’ve been alive.”

“Shut up Hastur,” Crowley growls, and then gives Aziraphale a gentle smile that makes him feel uncomfortable. “It’s sweet to still value a time before phones.” Granted, that is not Crowley. He always has made a point to have the most up to date model at all times. But it’s sweet to watch Aziraphale get passionate enough to rant about something - and it’s something he would like to see more of. 

That night, Aziraphale privately  _ thanks _ Crowley for the  _ many _ gifts, and they spent the next day mostly in bed. Reluctantly, Crowley lets Aziraphale get ready to be driven home that night. 

“Do you go home early to make sure it’s not too dark here?” Hastur asks, determined to not have any silence in these rides anymore. 

“It’s just safer this way,” Aziraphale answered evasively, which was a yes. 

“You can’t  _ believe _ Crowley doesn’t want to know about where you live,” Hastur presses, but Aziraphale is ignoring him. The suit, watch, and cufflinks are in a suitcase Crowley had given him, for him to hold onto until next Friday. The plan is for Aziraphale to already show up at their date ready, and he is determined to do what Crowley asks. 

“Look, I’ll come back Friday,” Hastur says, deciding to let it go for the moment. “But we’re going to  _ talk  _ about this next week.”

“Alright, alright,” Aziraphale waves him off, disappearing into the decrepit building. 

\--------

Hastur doesn’t get to pick up Aziraphale next Friday. That week a large case is brought to Crowley’s firm, and it means all hands are on deck. Every attorney, assistant, paralegal,  _ everyone _ is involved somehow. They all work long hours, and Crowley is unable to answer many texts or return calls. Aziraphale remembers nights like this, and feels bad for his lover. But from his studio apartment, where he prepares a cup of noodles with an electric kettle using the one good outlet that works, there isn’t much he can do except offer encouraging messages in the morning and at night. 

It does cause an issue when Friday rolls around, and Crowley tells Aziraphale that he’ll have to meet him and Hastur at the Ritz. A pit begins to form in Aziraphale’s stomach, because this presents a dilemma. He doesn’t drive - when he’d been sixteen, his parents couldn’t afford the lessons, and were too busy to teach him. Gabriel hadn’t wanted to teach him either, so he never learned. He didn’t exactly have a car anyway. The bus was a possibility, but what if something were to spill on the suit? And he couldn’t bring the suit and change there - the hotel would  _ never _ let him in without him already wearing it. He was well aware of how he would be perceived. That only left wearing the suit and leaving the apartment in it. Aziraphale gulped. That was not a good idea. But. Oh but Crowley wanted him to wear it, that was so  _ important _ to him. Maybe, if he was careful, he’d be able to make it there in one piece. He would just have to be  _ careful _ . 

He could do that. 

\----------

With the absolute clusterfuck that the week is, Crowley is looking forward to Friday night with more and more anticipation. He  _ cannot  _ wait to dine with Aziraphale at the Ritz, and then take him to see one of the most anticipated shows his angel had wanted to see. It will be  _ divine _ . 

He feels a little bad about not being able to spare Hastur to grab him, but he trusts that Aziraphale will be okay. He’s so smart, his Aziraphale.

_ His Aziraphale _ . He rather likes the sound of that. 

Hastur pulls in front of the hotel, and Crowley gets out. Unfortunately, he’s running a little late, but hopefully Aziraphale was able to get to their table already. Only, when he gets there, Aziraphale isn’t there. 

He sends a text, but it goes unanswered. In the beginning, he doesn’t think much of it. Aziraphale has never made a habit of running late, he’s allowed an off night. But then an hour passes. And then two. Phone calls go unanswered. 

Crowley had never been stood up on a date before. He doesn’t much care for the experience. After two and a half hours, he realizes that the show has started by now, and Aziraphale is not coming. Annoyed, he has Hastur bring the car around. He cannot  _ believe _ that he waited, like a fool, in that restaurant. People had  _ stared _ .

“I don’t know what is going on with Aziraphale,” Crowley snapped, as he got into the car. 

“Something is wrong,” Hastur said, not looking annoyed in the slightest. If Crowley were paying better attention, he would be able to identify the look as  _ guilt _ . But he wasn’t. 

That was when his phone  _ finally  _ went off, and Crowley wanted to scream. How was Aziraphale calling him, now? He had half a mind to hit ignore, but that wouldn’t solve anything. 

So he answered it. 

“Hello?” He asked, trying to keep his voice level. 

But an unfamiliar voice answered. “ _ Hello, is this Anthony Jay Crowley?” _

Crowley gave an instinctual grimace at the use of his full name, but answered in the affirmative. He was used to affirming his identity at work and - wait. What was a voice doing from  _ this _ phone number asking about him? 

Something was wrong. 

And then the voice spoke more, and Crowley felt the world fall out from under him. 

“ _ This is Dr. Tracey at Miracle Street Hospital, you are listed as the emergency contact for Aziraphale Fell. He was checked in a few hours ago and just got out of surgery. You should come.”  _


	2. Leave it to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After six months together, a conversation is had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are INCREDIBLE thank you so much for your support!!! I am so excited about this story :) 
> 
> I'm balancing writing this with working fulltime and school fulltime, but there is a direction and a need to see it through.
> 
> Also some of you totally predicted what comes next - great job!!! :)

It was a mugging. Aziraphale had been seen leaving his apartment hours earlier, where he was targeted a few streets away from his building. He had been beaten and had his possessions  _ stolen  _ from him as the attackers made off, leaving him  _ unconscious _ and _bleeding _in an alleyway. 

Crowley felt  _ sick _ . He had no way of knowing how long Aziraphale had been laying there before someone had thought to call for help. The doctor wouldn’t tell him more information over the phone - he had to get to the hospital and see her there to hear the full prognosis. Hastur made record time - breaking several laws and nearly running over four pedestrians - to get them to the hospital. Most of that passed in a blur for him. Crowley was just feeling so  _ horrible _ , so  _ guilty _ for just assuming the worst. It was the inner lawyer, that inner pessimist of him that had given him such doubts. But being with Aziraphale had kept those nastier emotions at bay - he wanted to be better, to be kinder for his lover. This was a wake-up call to really follow through on that. 

Crowley made a mad dash to the counter, where a doctor took him back to Aziraphale’s room. Words such as “_broken wrist_,” “_multiple contusions_,” “_extensive bruising, especially on the ribs_”, and “_possible concussion, we don’t know yet_,” floated over his head as he took in Aziraphale. He had gone through surgery for his wrist, which had been broken when the watch had been stolen. The watch Aziraphale had been so _happy_ to have just a week ago. Crowley recalled that innocent glow to his eyes as he reflected how much he _loved a good watch_. It made him feel sick all over again. But apparently the surgery had gone over well. Now his wrist was in a cast, and would be expected to heal over the next several months. 

Oh, he looked  _ awful.  _ There were cuts from where he had hit the ground that were on his forehead, his left arm was in a cast, and he had an IV in the other arm. Crowley swallowed, reaching out to lightly run a hand through his hair. He was trying to take in Aziraphale with his eyes, cataloging every bruise and scuff. 

Dr. Tracey stopped her explanations when she realized that Crowley wasn’t paying attention to her. 

She gave a sigh. “I know this young man, we used to live in the same building,” The doctor gently squeezed his unbound hand.

“You did?” Crowley asked, looking up at her. It occurred to him that he didn’t actually know where Aziraphale  _ lived _ . Some boyfriend he was. “How did this  _ happen _ ?”

To his shock, she snorted derisively and shook her head. “Because this  _ fool _ left his building wearing  _ tens of thousands _ of dollars worth of clothes on him in a poor area filled with people with nothing to lose. I showed him how to get involved in his  _ work _ , that’s how I paid my way through my schooling, but I  _ told _ him not to get caught up in a business man’s  _ fantasy _ and that is exactly what he did, the romantic  _ fool _ .” She blinked furiously, wiping at her eyes to avoid tears. 

Several unintelligible syllables emerged from Crowley. “ _ You _ put him on those sites?” He asked. It was the first of thousands of questions that were surfacing for him 

“I won’t hear any judgement for that-” She snapped, and Crowley shook his head.

“ _ Ngh- _ no - sorry. That’s not what I meant,” He said, “I just… I realize there’s a lot I don’t know.”

“I found him one year ago, broken-hearted and desperate to earn money to  _ eat _ . I showed him a way he  _ could _ , and a place he could  _ live _ . I  _ warned _ him, I did. A pretty young thing like him would attract the attention of - well. Someone like  _ you _ .” Dr. Tracey narrowed her eyes at him. “Were  _ you _ the reason he was wearing that suit?” 

His throat was dry. “Yes.” Crowley answered. 

“I see.” Her words were spoken softly, but there was a  _ weight _ attached that made Crowley feel  _ sick _ with guilt. 

“I didn’t know,” He began, and she shook her head. “People like you never do. I only hope he’ll bounce back from you when you leave.”

Crowley now glared at her. “I don’t know  _ what _ you think I am,” He said, “But I’m  _ not _ leaving.”

Because he  _ wasn’t _ . All he could think of now was his plan for what would come next. However long Aziraphale needed to be here, Crowley would stay. _Obviously_, he wasn’t going back to that apartment. So he would come back with Crowley - he was already making a list in his head of supplies to get for him. And he was texting Beelzebub and Lucifer he was going to need a couple days off to stay with him. That way he could recuperate with him, and after… they would work through that together. Maybe Crowley would help him get a different apartment. Maybe, if he was lucky, Aziraphale would agree to stay with him.

The doctor didn’t seem convinced, but Crowley didn’t care. She wasn’t the one he needed to work things through with. 

\----

On a normal day, Aziraphale genuinely loved getting up in the morning. He didn’t like to spend so much time sleeping in, not when there were so many exciting things to do everyday. There was hot chocolate to drink, libraries to visit, so many places to go that were more exciting then his sorry excuse for a mattress. But right now, everything  _ hurt _ , and the _last_ thing he wanted to do was wake up, because it just meant having to feel  _ every _ ache. 

Without his permission, a groan escaped him as his closed eyes strained not to open under the harsh lights. He felt himself  _ twitch _ , and he squeezed his hand reflexively. That was how he realized someone was holding his hand because he got a gentle squeeze  _ back _ . 

“Aziraphale? Are you waking up?” 

Wait. His eyes slowly fluttered open, and he recognized  _ Crowley _ forming in front of him. Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Cr-” He tried to say, but trying to speak sent a pained  _ twinge  _ through his chest that made him cough. 

“Shhh,” Crowley urged, “Don’t try and speak so suddenly. Are you thirsty?” Now that he mentioned it, _yes_. Aziraphale gave a  _ nod _ , and Crowley brought a cup with a bendy straw to his lips. Aziraphale leaned in to drink, not realizing for a few minutes that his arms weren’t listening to him. He leaned back and Crowley set the cup down. 

“How are you feeling?” Crowley asked, peering at him closely. 

“I,” Aziraphale looked down, realizing why his left arm felt so uncomfortable. It was wrapped in a cast. His chest hurt, but there didn’t seem to be anything else glaringly wrong. “I.. I think I’m alright? But why is there-”

His voice cut off as the  _ memory _ came back to him. Of struggling whether or not to wear makeup to the date, deciding to go light because he was going to have to walk. Leaving his apartment, only to be accosted and - and - 

“Oh no,” He whispered, wincing. 

“What’s wrong?” Crowley asked. Was there an injury they missed? 

“I, Crowley, I’m  _ so sorry _ ,” Aziraphale whispered. It was sinking in for him. How he let himself get attacked, and now Crowley was seeing him there in the  _ hospital _ . This kind of weakness was the  _ last _ thing he wanted his lover to see. “We missed the show… they took the _watch_ \- I’m so sorry I lost it.” 

“What?” He could not be hearing this. “Aziraphale, I don’t give a  _ fuck _ about any of that. I only care about  _ you _ and if  _ you’re _ alright.” 

“But you  _ trusted _ me, and you  _ wanted _ me to do this for you, and I  _ couldn’t _ ,” Aziraphale said despondently. 

“What happened,” Crowley said, firmly, “Was _not_ your fault. Aziraphale, I am so sorry that this happened to you, and I hope that you can forgive me.” 

Aziraphale spluttered. “ _ Forgive you _ ? Crowley, why would I-”

“Hastur was supposed to pick you up,” Crowley reminded him. He cradled Aziraphale’s right hand - the one that wasn’t in the cast, in his hands. “You were supposed to have a way to the restaurant, and I just assumed it wouldn’t matter, even though Hastur has driven you every weekend before. I never  _ asked _ \- I never  _ knew _ where you lived even. If I had  _ known- _ ”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Aziraphale admitted, looking down. “I was ashamed. You - you are so incredible Crowley. You’re so tender, and kind, and lovely. I just wanted to be nice and pretty for you, so you could have something nice to yourself. I was  _ lucky _ to have as much of your time as I did. I just didn’t want you to have to see something so ugly.”

Crowley leaned in, to gently cup the sides of Aziraphale’s face. It made Aziraphale flick his eyes up to the older man, and Crowley leaned in to kiss him. It was tender, and deep. If Aziraphale could pin an emotion to it, it would be  _ loving.  _ But he couldn’t bear to. He was already feeling so winded from all the aches he felt. 

“I want all of it,” Crowley whispered to him. “I want the Aziraphale that practises his facial expressions in the mirror. I want the Aziraphale that makes the most genuinely surprised face when I give him my dessert, even though I do it every time. And I want the Aziraphale that plays coy on the channel. I want to be worthy of  _ your _ time. I want this to go both ways. What do you want?” 

Aziraphale  _ trembled _ . “I just want you,” he said, and kissed Crowley again. 

\---

Crowley stayed with him, true to his word. But there were some follow-throughs that he had to take care of. So he texted Hastur, who had sent him at least twenty messages asking how Aziraphale was, to come and stay with him. 

_ Grab flowers from the giftshop, _ Crowley texted him,  _ This room looks terrible. _

Several minutes later, Hastur showed up with seemingly every flower that had ever existed, and a couple of balloons. 

“They don’t sell very good choices,” Hastur announced,  _ kicking _ the door open and startling Aziraphale. This was to explain the fact that half the balloons Hastur carried said some variation of  _ ‘congratulations’ _ ,  _ ‘it’s a boy’ _ , and  _ ‘it’s a girl’ _ . “But you told me you liked all the rainbow colors,” The driver said to Aziraphale, as he placed the balloons haphazardly throughout the space. Crowley wanted to glare at him for overdoing it when Aziraphale was still stressed, but he saw how excited and touched Aziraphale was to see the balloons everywhere. 

“They’re perfect,” The young man decided, raising his arms to give Hastur a hug as he sat on Aziraphale’s other side. To Crowley’s surprise, Hastur pulled him  _ close _ , squeezing him firmly yet gently. He even saw his driver press a quick kiss to the top of his head. 

“I’m driving you everywhere,” Hastur whispered, making sure Crowley could hear every word. “I don’t care what your boyfriend says.”

“I’m your boss,” Crowley said, exasperatedly. And he agreed, but Hastur shouldn’t be able to _decide_ that without him. Hastur ignored him. 

But it was good that he could have Hastur there. “I need to step out, for a little while,” He said reluctantly, “But I’m going to leave Hastur here until I get back, alright? It’s only going to be a few minutes, I promise.”

“It’s alright,” Aziraphale said, giving him a reassuring smile. 

“Hastur’s going to stay here,” Crowley repeated, but he wasn’t sure who he was reassuring. 

“Of course I am,” Hastur rolled his eyes. “Where else am I going?” 

Crowley gave Aziraphale a kiss before leaving the room. 

The door closed, and Aziraphale let out a measured _breath_, falling back onto the bed. He felt  _ exhausted _ . His arm hurt, his chest was hurting, and his emotions were all over the place from everything Crowley had said to him. He closed his eyes, trying to reign in his strength now that Crowley had left.

“How are you? Really? Cutting out the bullshit.” Hastur asked, and Aziraphale looked over at him. 

“ _ You _ look terrible,” The twenty-two year old answered. Hastur rolled his eyes. “I’m not the one that got mugged, answer the question. Or I won’t sneak you hot chocolate later.” 

Aziraphale sighed. For the hot chocolate. “Everything hurts,” He said honestly, “The doctor came before you did, so I’m just waiting for the medicine to kick in. But this is  _ terrible _ . And I hate that Crowley is seeing me like this.” 

“Crowley likes  _ you _ ,” Hastur said firmly. “He thinks you are a  _ literal _ angel on earth, and I think he may be right. So maybe it’s okay to let Crowley see you be a little more human, and let him help you.” 

“It’s not pretty,” Aziraphale shook his head. 

“I think I’m pretty enough for the both of us,” Hastur replied, and grinned at him. Aziraphale let out a weak giggle. Hastur ran a hand through his hair, and Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered closed in pleasure. 

“Just take a nap. I’ll get you hot chocolate when you wake up.” He promised, and Aziraphale, for once, listened to him. 

\--------

Crowley made quick work of settling the hospital bill, not wanting to forget it before he left. Aziraphale didn’t have insurance, and Crowley made a note to change that. His firm was a rare one that allowed employees to add partners to insurance - a mark on the fact that until recently most of their relationships would not have been accepted anyway in a conventional work place. It was important to Beelzebub that they cover  _ everything _ . 

After he paid, it seemed that Aziraphale was going to be released. They had only kept him as long as they did to make sure he didn’t have a concussion, and thankfully he didn’t. Crowley came back to the room to see Dr. Tracey in a fight with Hastur. She was trying to wake Aziraphale up so they could discharge him, and Hastur didn’t want her to touch him. 

“It’s alright,” Crowley interceded. His driver was quick to go to extremes - Hastur either didn’t care about someone, or he became fiercely loyal to a fault. That was manifesting in a very different,  _ very _ protective way for Aziraphale, but Crowley couldn’t bring himself to mind. It was clear that he didn’t have too many people willing to go that extra mile for him, so it was going to fall on them for now. 

So they woke him up, gently, and moved him to sit in a wheelchair, which he did, albeit he was confused and drowsy from being woken up, so he could leave the hospital. Hastur went ahead, taking the flowers and balloons to bring the car around, and Crowley pushed the chair to the front. 

Aziraphale was more alert by the time they were pulling away from the hospital. He still yawned, and looked around the outside. 

“I don’t remember how to get to my apartment from here,” He said apologetically, “But I think if you took me to a bus stop I should be fine.”

Crowley and Hastur (through the rearview mirror) just  _ stared  _ at him. 

“What?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Do you really think,” Hastur said, “That we’re letting you stay there? Or  _ dropping you off somewhere? _ ” 

“What he means is,” Crowley said quickly, before Aziraphale could snap at him, “Is that we want to look after you, and I would really appreciate it if you stayed with me, at least while you recovered. And maybe I can help you move - so you don’t have to stay there.”

“Unless you like the charm of no heating, or hot water,” Hastur shrugged, and Crowley’s gaze  _ sharpened _ while Aziraphale glared at him. 

After a moment, Aziraphale sighed. “Fine, I’ll move.” Dr. Tracey had been so  _ cross _ with him that he was still there, he didn’t put it past her to stop by later and yell at him. And he had a feeling that the one working outlet he had was beginning to fail, and had seen a roach the other day. Maybe it was a sign to leave. 

It was still embarrassing though to have Hastur pull up to the curb and have Crowley follow him out. 

“You shouldn’t see this,” Aziraphale pleaded, but Crowley shook his head. “I’m staying with you. I told you, I want all of you.” 

It would take too much energy to convince him otherwise, and Aziraphale didn't have the energy to fight him. So he led Crowley up the stairs, and to his door. Before he opened it, he looked at Crowley. 

"This… this isn't pretty," Aziraphale warned him, "You should probably stay here."

"I go where you go," Crowley replied, "I told you I want to be with you through everything, that includes this too." Aziraphale swallowed and took a deep breath. 

“Pick out whatever is most important, I’ll replace whatever isn’t,” Crowley promised. Aziraphale gave a nod, and stopped before pushing the door open. He turned to Crowley. “You don’t have to be here, for this.” He repeated, but Crowley shook his head. 

“I’m staying with you.” He promised. Aziraphale looked uncomfortable, but he opened the door anyway. 

_ Oh _ , Crowley thought uncomfortably,  _ he really hadn't been kidding _ . 

There was one corner that looked decent - blue sheets were taped up to form a backdrop and a camera was pointed in that direction, and there was a rather nice chair in that corner. Crowley recognized it - that was where Aziraphale worked and would stream from. But the rest of the apartment beyond the scope of the corner, was just… bare. 

There was a mattress on a boxspring in another corner on the floor, and a rack in front of it with clothes. Nearby was the suitcase Crowley had given him. There was a chair and tv tray that functioned as a table, with several canned foods and packages of cup of noodles. There was an electric kettle on the floor in front of an outlet. Aziraphale was very carefully  _ not  _ looking at him, and Crowley's heart  _ sank _ at the embarrassment on his face. 

"Hey, it's alright," Crowley said, moving over to gently wrap his arms around him. "You know, when I was in college, this is about what my apartment looked like." 

It was  _ loosely _ true- but that had been more out of a struggle to use as little as his father's money as possible and rebel, not out of necessity. Looking back, it had been a status move and a privileged thing to do and Crowley wasn't proud of it. But that didn't seem to make Aziraphale feel better. 

Aziraphale didn't answer him, and instead walked over to where the mattress was and pulled out the suitcase that Crowley had given him. "Some of this came with the apartment," Aziraphale said, "So I can't take it with me." 

"Just take what's most important," Crowley suggested. "Anything sentimental. I can help replace the rest. Just leave it to me." 

For the first time in all of this, Aziraphale didn't argue. He pulled a box from under the mattress - a small thing - and put it in the suitcase. Some of the clothes from the hanger also went in. He disappeared into the only doorway in the studio, which must have been the bathroom, and came out holding a makeup box. That also went in. Aziraphale's hands shook as he rearranged everything so it could all fit, but somehow he managed to close it. 

The whole process took less than ten minutes. 

Crowley gave him a quick hug, and pecked his forehead. "Are you ready to go?"

Aziraphale took a moment to look back, to gaze at the apartment that had been his home, his refuge, for over a year now. "Yes," he answered. Maybe it could help someone else now. 

\-------

They rode silently back to Crowley's apartment after that. Aziraphale closed his eyes, and dozed for most of the ride back, exhausted from the day's events. Hastur hands clenched the steering wheel when he saw them come out of the building with the tiny suitcase. This wasn't okay. But they would work on it. 

Crowley helped Aziraphale out of the car when they arrived, keeping a hand on the small of his back. With his other hand, he held Aziraphale's hand. Hastur was behind them, handling the tiny suitcase that held the paltry items Aziraphale had cared to take from his home. No, not a home. That was not a home. Hastur was cursing at himself, as he had been doing since Crowley got that phone call, for not saying anything sooner. 

The attorney made sure Aziraphale took some of the pain medication the hospital had sent him home with, and then walked him over to the bedroom.

“You take the bed,” Crowley said, moving back the covers. He fished out one of his softer t-shirts from Law School, and offered it to Aziraphale to sleep in. Methodically, Aziraphale changed his clothing. He helped Aziraphale settle, before covering him with the blanket. His lover was moving in some state of shock - Aziraphale hadn’t said more than two words since they left his old apartment, and he didn’t seem to be aware of what was going on. This was such a far cry from the Aziraphale who was always so happy, so bright, so eager to experience life and Crowley  _ hated _ how sad he was right now. But he couldn’t undo the past, just make him comfortable  _ now _ . Damage control - like what he would tell his clients. But Aziraphale was more important than that. 

He leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I’ll be on the couch, in the next room,” Crowley whispered, “If you need anything, just give me a call, alright sweetheart?” 

Aziraphale didn’t answer. Crowley pressed another kiss to his head, and reluctantly walked out of the bedroom. He sat on the couch, but made no move to change, or lay down. Crowley just focused on taking a couple of deep breaths, burying his head in his hands. He’d make this right somehow, he just knew it. For a very long moment, he contemplated making himself a  _ strong _ drink but he decided against it. Aziraphale needed him. 

From the bedroom, Aziraphale struggled to toss and turn. He couldn’t go to sleep. Simultaneously he felt too wired and too exhausted to actually manage any rest. Aziraphale could feel himself  _ trembling _ . He had been trying so hard to make things work, to keep things together, to keep himself going. And It was just falling apart out from under him. He let out a small  _ whimper _ , and tried to keep himself from crying. None of this was fair. It just wasn’t. And now Crowley had to see him like this… and for the first night since they had gotten together, and spent time together, they weren’t even in the same bed! Crowley must be so annoyed with him. Aziraphale hadn’t meant to put his name down on the emergency paperwork. He’d been in shock, not thinking clearly, had been coming out of surgery, and had just gone on instinct. But he should have  _ known _ better - Crowley’s interest in him was because of his youth, his beauty, his willingness to do or try anything. And he hadn’t been able to  _ thank _ Crowley yet. Which was not okay. So Aziraphale steeled himself, and slowly pushed himself to a sitting up position. Then, he stood up, swayed a bit, and walked towards the living room.

Crowley looked up as he saw Aziraphale come over to him. Instinctively, he smiled at his lover, and opened his arms as Aziraphale sat on his lap. “Couldn’t sleep baby?” He asked, and Aziraphale shook his head. 

Aziraphale leaned down to press a deep kiss to Crowley’s lips, deepening it quickly. Crowley made a small surprised noise. Aziraphale’s hands held the sides of Crowley’s face, or rather, his right hand did while his left hand fumbled awkwardly in the plaster and rested on his shoulder, and he swung his leg around so he was straddling his waist. 

“Wait, wait, Aziraphale, what are you doing?” Crowley pulled back, worry clouding his face. 

“I’m saying _thank you,”_ Aziraphale answered, and tried to lean in for another kiss. Crowley pulled away, frowning. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked, and Aziraphale  _ trembled _ in his arms. 

“I… this is what we do,” He stammered. “You take care of me, you help me, and I  _ thank _ you. So, I’m  _ thanking _ you.” 

Crowley frowned. “Is that what this is to you? Just  _ thanks _ ?” 

Aziraphale looked confused, as if he didn’t understand what Crowley was saying. Crowley groaned. “Aziraphale, do you  _ want _ to do this right now? Because you just went through something very traumatic, and I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“But it’s not an advantage if I’m offering!” Aziraphale pressed, and Crowley felt  _ horrified _ . 

“Who told you that?” He asked, “Aziraphale,  _ who told you that?” _

Aziraphale shook his head. “I just want you to like me,” He whispered, looking down. He missed the look of  _ heartbreak _ that crossed over his lover’s face. “If I can’t make you happy, you won’t have any use for me anymore. And… I’ve been so needy. It’s not exactly what you signed up for, so I understand if you _need_ something to make up for it.”

Something  _ horrifying _ was solidifying for Crowley. How did he miss it before? This was clearly not the first time Aziraphale had dated someone with means. Those moments when he knew how to order or act at events were becoming more clear. And whatever had happened, Aziraphale had learned some terrifying  _ ‘lessons’ _ to take as gospel. 

“I  _ do _ like you. Aziraphale, I think I like you a  _ lot _ ,” Crowley said soothingly, running his hands through his hair. Really, his feelings were a little closer to  _ love _ , but maybe sharing that was a little too intense for tonight. “Aziraphale, I like you a lot. And that is true when we have sex. It’s true when we don’t have sex. It’s true when we eat together, it’s true when I’m at work, and it’s true when you work. When you need me, that’s a sign you trust me and I  _ like that _ . I always want to know when you need me, and know that I need you too. All I ever want is your smile, your time, and you. Everything else is second to that. Because I want you, and everything that you are. No matter how pretty it is. I think you're worth everything whether you thank me or not. Just getting to see you is thanks enough for me.” 

As Crowley spoke, he could feel a more pronounced tremble in Aziraphale on his lap. And as he began to list how much his angel meant to him, Aziraphale buried his face into his hands. Aziraphale  _ sobbed _ into his hands, and Crowley felt his own heart  _ break _ . He pulled his angel close into him as Aziraphale stiffened. After a moment, he melted into Crowley’s arms, burying himself into his shoulder as he cried.

“Shh, shh, love it’s alright,” Crowley whispered, rubbing at his back. It wasn’t alright. None of this was alright. Aziraphale didn’t deserve to get hurt like he had been, or mistreated by whatever asshole gave him such a warped sense of his self-worth. But as much as Crowley hated Aziraphale’s past, he couldn’t change that. He could only work on protecting his future. And Crowley was very good at protecting the future. He did it for a living, afterall. 

“It’s  _ going _ to be alright,” He corrected, squeezing Aziraphale all the closer, “But just cry right now, I have you.”

Crowley was in no rush. They stayed there on the couch until Aziraphale’s sobs slowly died down to small gasps and whimpers. This had clearly been a cry that had been building for a very long time - and Crowley did not like how someone so young had already seen so much pain. Aziraphale was still shaking in his arms, hands shaking as he tried to get his breathing under control. Crowley kept murmuring gentle words and reassurances, still stroking his back. 

_ Water _ , he thought,  _ he’s definitely dehydrated right now _ . But he couldn’t get up and leave Aziraphale on the couch like this. He wished at that moment that he could just  _ make _ some water appear, but things like that just weren’t possible. 

His musing got interrupted by a very small noise, that was a throat being cleared. Crowley looked up, from where his face had been buried in Aziraphale’s curls, to see Hastur standing there before him. Hastur looked to be in a lot of pain - which was how Crowley felt - after listening to Aziraphale’s story like that. It occurred to Crowley, for the first time, that Hastur had  _ known  _ where exactly his angel lived and had said nothing to him. For a very strong moment, Crowley wanted to tell him to leave his apartment and not come back. But then Hastur handed him a glass of water. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, stepping back when Crowley took the glass. He would decide what to do about him later. Instead, Crowley focused on Aziraphale, encouraging him to take small sips of water. And his angel did, trying not to go too fast and risk hiccups. 

“I don’t want to be alone,” Aziraphale repeated, and Crowley pressed a kiss to his temple. 

“You won’t be alone,” Crowley reassured him, “I won’t leave you.”  _ Ever _ . 

“Can… can we sleep together?” Aziraphale asked timidly. “But… but maybe just sleep?” He said it meekly, as if he were afraid of the answer he would get in response. Crowley  _ winced _ in frustration for his lover. That he would be afraid to ask if they didn’t have to have sex. 

It made Crowley realize that he had never slept with Aziraphale without sex being involved. That earlier anger directed at Hastur was now focused inward. He mentally cursed. “Of course love,” He said. He set the half-empty glass on the table, and scooped Aziraphale into his arms. 

He carried his angel back into the bedroom, this time staying himself. Crowley set Aziraphale back in the bed, and pulled the duvet over them both this time. He pulled Aziraphale into his arms, helping him settle on his chest. Crowley traced symbols on his back, and kissed his forehead. “Just take deep breaths, just like that,” He encouraged. “I have you. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Slowley, Aziraphale managed to drift off to sleep, too exhausted to do much else. Somehow, Crowley was able to follow. 

\------- 

Aziraphale was still asleep when Crowley woke up the next morning. This was unusual - usually Aziraphale was out of bed and making breakfast, but given everything that had happened, he was entitled to a late morning. Crowley pressed his lips to his forehead, slowly rubbing his back. A glance to the nightstand showed him a glass of water and some pills - Hastur had stayed the night. For a moment, Crowley debated waking him up, but Aziraphale ended the debate by opening his eyes. 

“Hey,” He said gently. Aziraphale blinked at him, at first in confusion, but then in recognition as he gained more awareness. Before he could do anything stupid, like apologize for daring to show a ‘not pretty’ emotion, Crowley kissed him. 

“_Mh_!” Aziraphale pulled back after a moment, and actually pouted at him, “Morning breath!” He complained, and Aziraphale sounded so much like _Crowley’s _ _ brat _ , as if nothing were wrong, that he laughed and kissed him again, ignoring the half-hearted complaint. 

After a moment, he pulled away to hand the pills and water to Aziraphale. “Compliments of Hastur,” He said with a grin. “He spent the night. I think you have a fan.” 

Aziraphale scoffed. “He just feels bad for me, he doesn't like me or anything,” he took the medicine, ignoring the  _ look _ Crowley gave him. 

“Yeah,” Crowley snorted, “And I’m an aardvark. I bet you  _ anything _ that we’re going to go into the kitchen, and he’s going to be making French toast on brioche with hot chocolate to drink because it’s  _ your _ favorite breakfast, and I’m going to have to make my own coffee because he’s not my nursemaid.” 

“That’s ludacris,” Aziraphale scoffed. 

“So bet me.” Crowley pressed with a grin.

Aziraphale sighed. “Fine. What do you want if you’re right? Which you  _ aren’t _ .” 

Crowley made a show of tilting his head to one side, and then the other, as if lost in thought. Then he said, “If I’m right, I get to give you a bath.” 

Never had he seen Aziraphale blush so  _ quickly _ before - it was lovely. Aziraphale spluttered, “How - how is that a win for you?” 

“I don’t question you,” Crowley grinned. “So let’s go.” He stood up, pulling on his jeans and a shirt. He rummaged through some of his clothes, offering an old sweatshirt to Aziraphale. 

“Wait, shouldn’t I get to make a wager?” Aziraphale asked, pulling it over his head. He opened Crowley’s suitcase to pull out some of his own clothing. 

“Alright, what do you want?” Crowley asked. 

Aziraphale pursed his lips, and Crowley fought the urge to kiss him. “I would like to eat lunch with you next week,  _ during _ the week.” He didn’t know where that urge came from. But Crowley’s words from yesterday, about liking him and wanting to spend time with him had him feeling bold. Maybe he could be allowed to have a glimpse of Crowley-during-the-week, not just weekend-Crowley. 

He got a grin. “You won’t win, but we’ll do it anyway,” Crowley promised, 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, and followed Crowley into the kitchen. 

Hastur was there, standing over the stove. “Thought you two would never wake up,” He teased. 

Crowley was giving him a _look_ that very plainly said,  _ I told you so _ , but Aziraphale was ignoring it. Because he genuinely didn’t think that someone would ever  _ cook  _ for him on their own. Gabriel had always ordered food, or paid for a chef to make something to show off. Crowley - Aziraphale  _ adored _ him - could not be trusted to do anything more ambitious than microwave popcorn or work a coffee machine. He was  _ not  _ a chef. So Aziraphale had done most of the cooking, because when he had the chance to work with choice ingredients and a nice kitchen he always took it. But he couldn’t remember the last time someone had just cooked for _ him _ . 

“I promised you hot chocolate yesterday, and I don’t break promises,” Hastur said, passing him an oversized mug that was nearly full. Carefully, Aziraphale took it with his right hand, which was not in the cast, and brought it to his lips. His eyes closed in pleasure at the taste. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale whispered, savoring it. 

Hastur waved him off, and started plating the food on the stove. Aziraphale wanted to _cry_. It was french toast. On brioche. 

“Figured this would pair well with the hot chocolate,” Hastur said, and Crowley wanted to laugh. He must have woken up early, because he was plating it  _ with strawberries _ and Crowley didn’t own fruit. He had  _ actually _ gone to the market across the street. 

And, as he suspected, the coffee maker was turned off. “No coffee?” He asked, giving the most smug look he could to Aziraphale who was blushing again. 

Hastur glared at him. “Do I look like your fucking maid?  _ You _ make the coffee.” He ordered. 

“Very well,” Crowley agreed, and Aziraphale nearly choked on his hot chocolate. 

“Don’t you dare choke,” Hastur ordered, and Aziraphale put his mug down. “Sorry,” he stammered, and went to help bring plates to the table. 

Hastur now glared at Aziraphale. “Oh, are you going to lift things with a cast?” His tone managed to sound equal parts questioning and threatening, which was pretty impressive. But even Crowley was giving him a very stern look, and Aziraphale could guess which answer would not get him yelled at. 

“No,” He said but it still sounded like a question. But they both nodded, so he sat down. 

“I’m not staying,” Hastur said, turning off the stove top, “Just wanted to make sure you were both alive. I’m heading out now.” 

So he had  _ stayed,  _ to make sure they were  _ okay _ , and  _ made breakfast _ . Aziraphale swallowed, trying to bury his face into the mug to hide tears that were threatening to fall. It didn’t stop Hastur from bending down to give him a hug, and he buried his nose in his curls. 

“Don’t go out anywhere today, not unless I'm driving you,” He ordered gruffly. 

“He can’t,” Crowley answered smugly, “He’s busy later.” 

Aziraphale glared at him from over his mug. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation is had, and some clarity is found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much! I am so honored from your responses and your encouragement is really keeping me going! 
> 
> Also, there's a moment in here that a few of you guessed :) I was really impressed!!! I hope it wasn't too obvious on my part XD If I should work on anything in my writing please let me know!

There was a part of Aziraphale that didn’t actually believe Crowley had been  _ serious _ about the bath. Which, in hindsight, was foolish. After breakfast, Crowley made a point of wrapping plastic bags around his cast, so it wouldn’t get wet. 

“Were you  _ serious _ ?” Aziraphale asked incredulously as Crowley tied the bag around his arm. 

“Why would you enter an agreement with a lawyer you weren’t prepared to follow through on?” Crowley teased, and kissed the  _ pout  _ that Aziraphale gave him. 

He made quick work of filling the tub, and helped Aziraphale take off his clothes. Crowley stepped into the tub first, and held out a hand to brace Aziraphale as he stepped in. 

For a few minutes, Crowley just relished in getting to  _ hold  _ Aziraphale, letting the younger man lean back against his chest. He buried his face into his curls, and didn’t make an effort to move. Aziraphale gave a pleased humming noise, slowly letting the water soothe muscles he didn’t realize were aching. A pleasant, lightheaded feeling was coming over him. It had been  _ so long _ \- he couldn’t remember when - he last felt  _ this  _ relaxed and  _ safe _ with someone. Aziraphale could stay in this moment  _ forever _ .

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispered into his hair.

“Hm?” He replied. 

There was a moment when Crowley could  _ feel _ the words on his tongue. They were there. Right there. The Love Words. 

“Can you dip your head back?” He asked, cursing himself as he chickened out. “So I can wash your hair.” 

“Alright my dear,” Aziraphale said. Crowley helped him tilt his head back, and placed a kiss to his forehead. 

Crowley used his own shampoo to gently massage suds into Aziraphale’s hair, while Aziraphale gave contented hums and sighs. At one point he could swear he was  _ purring _ . It was lovely. That helped Crowley find the strength to try again, because he wanted this moment to go on forever. He didn’t want any doubts to linger in his lover’s head. Aziraphale should know how Crowley felt. He deserved to know. Maybe whoever this last person was had taken him for granted, had wanted him to be some pretty thing to have out whenever they wanted, but  _ Crowely  _ was determined to be different. He said he cared about Aziraphale, but maybe he needed to be more upfront and  _ say  _ how he felt. So his angel could know that when Crowley said he cared, that he wanted to be there for every moment, no matter how pretty, he meant it. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispered, “I’m in love with you.”

Crowley watched as Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open, and he seemed to look more aware then he did a second ago. Carefully, Aziraphale turned in his arms until he could look him in the eye. Several emotions passed through his eyes: shock, alarm, confusion, joy, and caution. From his experience with witnesses and questioning, he had learned how to read the slightest ticks from people. How to identify the emotion he  _ needed  _ to see, and press the advantage. But he had to be careful  _ not _ to do that here. Let Aziraphale decide how to proceed. 

Aziraphale swallowed. “I.. are you sure? I mean, the last couple of days have been. Well. It’s understandable if your emotions are running a little high. I wouldn’t blame you.”

Well. That hurt. 

Crowley couldn’t resist the frown. He didn’t like how  _ jaded _ Aziraphale was - he was too young for that. And he had done  _ nothing _ but confess how he honestly and fully felt - he didn’t much like the doubt. Of course, later, he would realize that it was rather hypocritical of him, a well-practised attorney, to be annoyed by Aziraphale exercising practicality and caution after a difficult past. Later, he would be thankful that even though he was falling in love with someone much younger, that person was very sensible. 

“I think,” Crowley said, “You can trust me to know my own mind. And how do you feel?”

Aziraphale let out a self-deprecating laugh. “You’ve  _ always  _ had me,” Aziraphale said. “I’ve wanted to be yours for as long as you would have me. But I think when you listened to me rant about  _ watches _ , that was when I realized I could really feel  _ safe _ with you. And here, in this bath, I realized how gentle you are, and how you could be with me even if we  _ don't  _ have sex, and that makes me feel so  _ secure  _ with you. Does that make sense? I don’t think it does,” He gave out another laugh, “Oh dear, you better stop me because if you don’t I’m not going to stop talking _ -mph _ ” 

Knowing how to take initiative, Crowley leaned in to kiss Aziraphale, because experience said that he  _ really wouldn’t _ stop talking. Which was another thing he was in love with. It was all different pieces to learn more about the man in front of him, and if he spent the rest of his life learning more about him Crowley could consider himself a lucky man indeed. 

Aziraphale pulled himself closer, letting the gentle rocking of the water carry him to settle on Crowley's lap. Lazily, he rocked their hips together and they both groaned at the sensation. 

"Keep your left arm over my shoulder," Crowley ordered, and Aziraphale listened. He moved his arm, which brought them closer together. Aziraphale leaned in to kiss him, deepening it the  _ moment _ Crowley kissed him back. His other arm moved to hold his shoulder, and then run through his red hair. Crowley broke off their kiss, and moved his head to kiss a spot below his ear that made him  _ shudder _ pleasantly while his hands ran down his back. Aziraphale moaned, luxuriating in the warmth of the water that surrounded and cradled them - it built on the feeling of Crowley’s arms around him, which only heightened the experience. 

Crowley then wrapped a hand around his dick, and Aziraphale let out a helpless  _ gasp _ at the sensation. As Crowley moved his hand he rocked against him with his hips, and Aziraphale whimpered at the sensation of grinding against his lover. 

“Just like that,” Crowley urged, nibbling on his ear, “Just like this love, just move your hips - yes  _ perfect _ ,” He praised, and Aziraphale  _ keened _ . 

There wasn’t a rush, no hurry to be anywhere else but with each other. Aziraphale went to move his right hand, but Crowley growled at him to  _ leave it there love _ and Aziraphale wanted to be good for him, and listen to him, so he did. The intensity of the moment made him feel nearly lightheaded, and before he knew it, he could feel his release leave him with a shudder. It left him boneless, and he listed in Crowley’s arms as his lover growled a release in his ear not too long after. 

Aziraphale stayed where he was until Crowley urged him to tilt his head back, just to make sure all the soap in his hair got off. He kept his eyes closed, letting Crowley turn him whatever way he needed. It was so nice to  _ let go _ , and he felt so wonderfully drowsy after that, and getting to feel close to someone he  _ loved _ and could be  _ open  _ about loving. How intoxicating! Simply exquisite. There was a low chuckle, and Aziraphale belatedly realized he had said much of that out loud. 

“That was divine,” Aziraphale added, too dazed and happy to let himself feel embarrassed. 

“I’m glad,” Crowley replied, looking entirely too satisfied with himself. Though maybe it was deserved. A little. 

“I don’t have to work today,” Crowley whispered, “What say I tempt you to a nap?” 

Napping, Aziraphale had learned in their time together, was Crowley’s favorite hobby. When Crowley didn’t have to work, his favorite vice to engage in was pure  _ sloth _ . It wasn’t usually Aziraphale’s cup of tea, he usually pressed Crowley into visiting parks and museums when they were together. But with everything that had happened, perhaps it would be nice to take a day to do nothing. 

So really, when Crowley pressed his nose against his temple, as they got out of the bath, to whisper, “Let me tempt you to a nap,” Aziraphale was hopeless to do anything except smile at him and say, “Temptation accomplished.” 

For the next two hours they dozed, cuddled together in the middle of Crowley’s enormous bed. Aziraphale slept off and on in bursts. He kept waking up in different positions - he fell asleep the first time with his face resting on Crowley’s chest, which in his opinion was the _best_ pillow. But when he woke up, at some point he had apparently turned over, and Crowley was pressed against his back. That was nice too. For a moment, he let himself enjoy the feeling of Crowley wrapped around him, gently constricting him. It let him doze some more, before he felt the need to _move_. He turned over, to see that Crowley was already awake, and smiling at him. They lay there, nose to nose. 

“Hello,” Aziraphale said. His voice came out in a whisper, he didn’t know why. 

“Hi,” Crowley answered. He too kept a low voice, and gently pressed his forehead to Aziraphale’s. “How are you feeling?”

“Quite well my dear,” Aziraphale answered. And it was true. His wrist ached, but it was nothing serious thanks to the medication he took when he woke up a few hours ago. “I’m glad you suggested this.” In that moment, Aziraphale didn’t know if he meant the nap, or staying with Crowley at all. Really he meant both. 

Crowley seemed to understand. “Nice, right?” He gave a big  _ stretch _ , sitting up. Not in the mood to sit up, Aziraphale scooted closer to lay his head on his lap. Gently, Crowley carded his hands through his hair. “I used to do this all the time, before I met you. I could spend whole  _ days _ asleep. Once, after the LSAT, I slept for an entire  _ week _ .”

“That’s impossible,” Aziraphale snorted, “You can’t sleep an entire week.” 

“Just ask my colleagues,” Crowley defended, “I  _ did, _ they’ll defend me - you’ll meet them soon enough anyway.”

Aziraphale gave a  _ hum _ . “Do you, do you really think that’s wise?” 

“Think what’s wise?” 

“That I meet the people you work with,” Aziraphale clarified. 

Crowley stared at him. Aziraphale glanced up when he felt his hand stop and pouted. “You don’t need to stop,” He said, frowning. It was a nice sensation. 

“Do you  _ not _ want to meet my firm?” Crowley asked, but Aziraphale shook his head. 

“Of  _ course  _ I do,” Aziraphale answered, “They sound lovely. I’ve heard the most interesting anecdotes from Hastur about Ligur, and I really want to see what’s  _ true _ about him.”

“It’s all true,” Crowley reflexively answered. “But then why do  _ I _ need to be sure?”

Aziraphale shifted. “I… my last partner never introduced me to his colleagues. He didn’t want me to be a distraction. I wouldn’t  _ possibly _ be able to keep up in a conversation with a bunch of lawyers, I was a little too  _ immature _ and  _ young  _ for all that.” 

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Crowley scolded. “Who  _ was _ this person?” 

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “I’m afraid to say, because I’m worried you’ll like me less.” 

Crowley blinked at him. “That is literally impossible. Aziraphale, I love you.” 

Aziraphale took a steadying breath. “Alright, but you have to  _ remember that.  _ Despite what I say. Because. Well. You know this person, I’m pretty sure, and I’m not proud of it. The person I used to date was Gabriel Archangel.” 

“Nkg- _ Gabriel?”  _ Crowley stammered, “You dated one of the most- the  _ most _ \-  _ Aziraphale- _ ” He let out a choked laugh. This was nearly  _ Shakespearean _ in the drama of it all. Crowley wasn’t angry. How could he? It was just someone Aziraphale used to date. It was all apart of who this lovely person was. “His firm is one of our  _ greatest rivals _ . Do you  _ know _ how many cases we go up against them?” 

“I do, actually,” Aziraphale said, “Gabriel used to talk about work all the time. He complained about your firm a lot. Not very good at upholding attorney-client privilege either.” 

That admission earned him an interested look. “Is that how you’ve been able to follow along with my stories?”

_ Gabriel.  _ Crowley could hardly believe it. Sometimes Crowley had even  _ met  _ with him before. He had always thought Gabriel was a wanker, but hearing how he had belittled and put down such a lovely person wasn’t something he had seemed _capable_ of. Sure, he'd been an asshole, but Crowley hadn't thought he was capable of hurting someone as wonderful as his angel. Asshole.    
  


“It’s also why I know never to press for details," Aziraphale added. "It bothered me how much Gabriel used to share - so much of the information was _sensitive_, but I guess because he thought because I wasn’t a lawyer that I wouldn’t be able to understand what he would tell me. But I used to read Gabriel's legal journals when he would leave me in his apartment. The idea of literary legal precedents from prior court cases was such a  _ fascinating _ concept to me. The way every argument you make just  _ adds _ to the creation of existing laws and becomes  _ real _ legal tender, and it gets masked with  _ complicated legalese procedure _ . It's so incredible and demonic simultaneously. And every single day, you and your colleagues propose additions to laws that get adapted to our way of life and it’s all dependent on a judge’s decision. I know it's so commonplace and nuanced for you but it's really quite incredible!"

Aziraphale broke off, realizing he'd gone into another rant. He sheepishly looked up to see a very intense stare in Crowley's eyes. 

"I love you," The lawyer said. He was helpless to say anything else. "I hope you know that." 

Aziraphale smiled. "I love you too."

"What  _ did _ you study?" Crowley asked. "I feel like I just talk about work all the time, but  _ you're _ the one that can just whip out sophisticated diction like it's  _ nothing _ and speak so  _ eloquently _ ."

Aziraphale blushed at the praise. "I… I didn’t. I never had the money to go to college when I was growing up, so I was planning to go to community college to pay my way through. But then I met Gabriel, and he was just so  _ charming _ and _promised_ to take care of me,” He broke off, feeling embarrassed. 

Crowley went back to carding his hand through his hair, letting his hand gently stroke the back of his neck and his back, “It’s alright,” He encouraged. 

“So,” Aziraphale swallowed, “Crowley, you have to understand. At first, he was so…  _ dashing _ . Like how he gives opening statements to a jury. It was like that.” Aziraphale had watched him in court before, and had been so  _ impressed _ with how he had been able to capture the attention of the room. 

“He is deceptively charming,” Crowley agreed. He could remember seeing _his_ first case in action, going up against Gabriel that first time, feeling so _intimidated_ the whole time. Having the full charm offensive set to him would have been overwhelming, he could only imagine how it would have felt for someone innocent who had  _ just _ turned eighteen and wanted to believe in love. 

“So he promised he would take care of me, that no one who  _ Gabriel _ took care of would ever need  _ community college,”  _ Aziraphale gave a regretful laugh. “Of course, I didn’t understand at the time he felt it beneath him, and visible status was important to him. He wanted to be able to keep something pretty and brainless at home to have, like a pet or a toy. There when he wanted to play with them but to be put away or set aside when not being used.”

“What happened?” Crowley asked, still stroking his back. 

“I lived with him for three years,” Aziraphale said, “He… he helped me when my parents died,” His voice broke off for a moment, and Crowley held him tightly. Aziraphale let out a shuddering gasp. “Oh, I’m sorry, it just hurts to remember. Because towards the end, he tried to control me. Or. It's more accurate to say that I realized he had been controlling me the whole time. I would fight him on it, and we got into the  _ nastiest _ spats. Once, I left the apartment, to clear my head, and when I tried to go back the doorman had been instructed to keep me out. There was a trashbag with some of my clothes in it, and I was told not to return.” 

A few tears fell down his face, and Crowley let out a sympathetic groan for him. 

Aziraphale pressed on. The dam had been broken - it didn’t matter that he was fully crying now, he needed to let the words out. “I don’t even  _ care _ \- not about Gabriel. I was plenty unhappy towards the end, and I  _ knew _ he was wrong for me. But there were old family photos and scrapbooks I had made with my parents, and it’s all I had of them. Because he convinced me to get rid of their possessions after they died, to not have  _ clutter  _ in our home that was really just his, just his way of trying to keep the space  _ his.  _ But I got to keep photos, which was the most important thing anyway, and my parents' favorite books, but I’m _sure_ Gabriel threw them away when he got angry and had enough of me. It just hurts to  _ remember _ .” 

Crowley lifted him up, pressing Aziraphale’s face into his chest. They sat there, Crowley rocking them back and forth while Aziraphale cried bitterly for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. Aziraphale took a couple of breaths as he began to calm down, wiping at his eyes. 

“I can’t seem to stop  _ crying _ on you,” He complained, but Crowley just handed him a tissue. 

“You spent the last several years keeping a tight control on the way you present yourself to the world,” Crowley replied, “And now you’re finally getting a chance to let it go. I’m not surprised if you’ll need to cry more.” 

“I hope not,” Aziraphale pouted. “I’ll never be able to wear eyeliner again.” 

He was deflecting - they both knew it. For Crowley, it was enough that he was sharing his problems and opening up more about his life. That was enough for now. So he kissed Aziraphale’s forehead, and urged him to get up so they could get some water and order lunch. They spent the rest of the day picking different things to watch on Netflix, which ended up being mostly Crowley picking movies - Aziraphale wasn’t as familiar with the platform, because he didn’t have it. He also apparently hadn't seen any of _The Next Generation_, which, in Crowley's opinion, was the greater offense. 

\----

They got to enjoy two days together, just them relaxing in Crowley’s apartment before work became unavoidable. In the interim, Crowley had texted and emailed occasionally but finally the day came where he had to return. 

“I can tell them I need more time,” Crowley offered, but Aziraphale shook his head. “You need to go back.”

“Hastur will come back and stay here,” Crowley said, but Aziraphale didn’t know who he was trying to console. Crowley’s phone began ringing - it was the office. He groaned, giving Aziraphale an apologetic look. Aziraphale made an encouraging motion for him to go ahead and answer it. As Crowley walked a couple steps away to answer the call, Aziraphale kept himself busy by going through the books in his office, actually making a triumphant noise at finding one of Crowley's old textbooks. 

Crowley was on the phone with Lucifer while Aziraphale began reading one of his textbooks. As Crowley spoke, he watched as Aziraphale smiled at the book, and opened it. It made him happy to see Aziraphale so excited. He watched as Aziraphale squinted, pulling the book impossibly close until it was nearly touching his nose. 

He frowned. That had been occurring for… well for as long as he had known Aziraphale. The first time had been in that restaurant, when Aziraphale had wanted to look at the dessert menu. At the time, Crowley had just assumed that he had been trying to play coy at asking for a treat. It had been cute. But now, he realized, he could recall moments of Aziraphale struggling to hold books closer and farther intermittently to get a sense of what they said. The font size of his phone was off, and usually Aziraphale trusted  _ him _ to order take out, even though Aziraphale considered himself a major foodie. 

There was something up. "Angel," he called over, asking Lucifer to hold for him. 

Aziraphale looked over, waiting for him to continue. Crowley asked, "When did you last have a doctor's appointment?"

For his part, Aziraphale looked confused at the question. 

"We just came from the doctor's," Aziraphale said. He looked bemused, as if Crowley had said something adorable. 

Crowley felt alarmed. "No, that was the emergency room where you got  _ admitted _ . When did you last see a doctor? For _anything_?"

There was a moment where Aziraphale pursed his lips, trying to think of an answer. A moment passed. And then another. There was a long stretch of silence, and Crowley felt his eyes widen with a growing horror. 

" _ Nhk-fuck _ ," he cursed, telling Lucifer he would be at the office soon. Then, the lawyer turned his attention fully on Aziraphale. "Alright," he said, "I'm going to have to go in, our client wants to try arbitration first and I have to be there to talk through options." 

"Alright," Aziraphale said, but Crowely wasn't done. 

"I'm going to go, but I think you and Hastur should make a visit to the doctor."

He starts to text his suspicions to Hastur, who is in absolute agreement with him.

_ I think Aziraphale needs glasses _ , Crowley writes. 

_ Pretty sure he can’t read more than five feet away from him,  _ Hastur agrees,  _ He can’t make out street signs when he used to give me directions.  _

Unable to see Crowley’s texts, Aziraphale scoffs, shaking his head. "That’s ridiculous, I feel fine, and those appointments are entirely too expensive." In his opinion, Crowley was just being all up in arms over nothing. He’s been fine for twenty-two years, there wasn’t a need to see a doctor and pay too much money just for someone to  _ tap his knee.  _

Crowley smiles at him. "Indulge me? I'll pay." He saunters to the chair Aziraphale is in, leaning over it suggestively. He needed to sweeten the pot. "We'll get lunch together after, you'll meet my colleagues… I'll  _ thank _ you tonight for being  _ agreeing"  _

Aziraphale leans up, kissing him. "Alright,  _ alright _ , if it'll make you happy I'll go!"

"Thank you," Crowley said. It was amusing to him that he had to nearly  _ beg _ Aziraphale to see a doctor, but at least he could rely on food and sex as bribes. 

\------

"Can you read line four for me?" The optometrist asked.

Aziraphale, with his head looking through the phoropter, squinted, and said nothing. 

Hastur, who was sitting with him, furrowed his eyebrows. "Aziraphale?" He asked. Aziraphale had requested Hastur come with him - he was convinced the doctor was going to try and charge him more for something he didn’t need, and trusted Hastur to help people back off. Hastur tagged along, touched he would even be asked. 

Carefully, Aziraphale removed his head to look at them. "I don't think line four is in English, it looks like Arabic. Can I get a different slide?" 

Hastur gave a swear that made the doctor glare at him  _ furiously _ . He raised his hands apologetically. The doctor turned back to Aziraphale. 

"Alright," The doctor made a few marks on her clipboard, and moved over to adjust the machine. "Try now."

Aziraphale leaned in, and made a triumphant noise. With a newfound confidence, he proceeded to read out the first three letters correctly, and then rattled off some numbers and the name of an emoji. 

From over his shoulder, the doctor now gave Hastur and  _ alarmed _ look. To Aziraphale she merely adjusted the machine and told him to try again. As he read the line, this time correctly, she walked over to him. 

In a low voice, she whispered to him, “Did he drive here?”

“No, I did,” Hastur answered. The doctor looked visibly relieved. 

_ We were right, I don’t know how no one caught this sooner,  _ Hastur texted Crowley,  _ His eyesight is really bad.  _

Thankfully, with Hastur in the room, Aziraphale wasn’t able to successfully protest the diagnosis that he needed glasses  _ yesterday.  _

“Could we get him frames today?” Hastur asked.

“They usually take a week to come in,” The doctor demurred. Hastur was determined. “What if money weren’t an issue?” 

Aziraphale  _ gaped  _ at him, and the doctor gave him an appraising look. “Then we could work something out.” 

\-----

_ My beauty has begun to fade, my love.  _

That was the text Crowley got from Aziraphale when they left the doctor’s office. 

The arbitration wasn’t going well. Ironically, his firm was going against Archangel & Heaven, the firm run by  _ Gabriel _ and his colleague Michael. If it weren’t breaking attorney-client privilege, he would have texted Aziraphale about it. Well. It would hit the news soon enough, because this was a high-profile case. Dr. Raven Sable, the self-acclaimed "dietitian to the stars" who’s weightloss empire was spanning the globe, was trying to sue his client, Brian, a reporter who had run an expose on how Dr. Sable’s plan was a scam intended to starve innocent people and disadvantaged children - he was trying to break into the free lunch program. 

Michael was there with Dr. Sable while Crowley sat with Brian. They had been going back and forth about options, but Brian wasn’t willing to retract his article. Crowley believed in his innocence, and so did the paper he worked for. Dr. Sable wasn’t willing to acquiesce that  _ any _ of it was true, and they were going to end the day at an impasse. This was a libel case, and Michael was trying to take down the newspaper on top of it. Her hope was to drag the whole thing through the media and destroy the reputation of the paper. Sable was probably paying a heavy fee to keep her on retainer. 

Finally, Michael called it an afternoon. Crowley stood to shake her hand, and then the Doctor’s, and they left the meeting room. Brian let out a shaky breath. Crowley looked at him. 

“You did well,” He encouraged. 

Brian didn’t look convinced. “They tell you about this in school, about potential lawsuits when you speak truth to power, but it’s another thing for it to  _ happen _ .” 

“Look, you’re right and you’re young. This isn’t going to break you,” Crowley said. “And the paper agrees, or else they wouldn’t have brought you here to our firm. And we believe you, or we wouldn't have taken your case. This going to court is only going to help your paper, and  _ you.”  _

They went back and forth for a bit, which was when Crowley finally allowed himself to check his phone for messages. There were several from Hastur, giving him updates about the appointment. It turned out that Aziraphale’s vision was worse than they thought, and he was going to need glasses. That was an hour ago. Then he saw the message from Aziraphale, and had to fight down a laugh. 

_ That’s impossible darling,  _ He texted back, and put his phone away. 

Crowley walked Brian to his office, where Ligur, one of their paralegals, and Anathema, his legal secretary, helped Crowley most closely. Lucifer, who was helping this case, also joined them. He couldn’t arbitrate if Michael was there - they had dated years ago and had an  _ epic _ falling out. Lucifer was fine in a courtroom with Michael, but the intimacy of a mediation meeting wasn’t good. She  _ knew _ that - it was probably why  _ she _ was the one who came, and not Gabriel. 

It made Crowley rather glad that they didn’t know about Aziraphale. In light of what he knew, he wasn’t sure he could refrain from punching Gabriel, so it was good he wasn’t getting tested today. 

The next hour was spent going through their options, and walking Brian through what a trial would look like. They made sure he felt comfortable to ask whatever questions, and Anathema outlined what he would have to do going forward. Eventually, he seemed to be feeling a lot more optimistic about the process. Anathema walked him out, scheduling his next appointments. Crowley and Ligur both received the same notification on their phones from Hastur. 

“Looks like Hastur’s here,” Ligur read, and neither Lucifer nor Crowley made a comment at the rare smile Ligur had whenever he talked about his husband. He flashed Crowley a dark grin. “And we finally get to meet your sugar baby.” 

“I can have you fired,” Crowley reminded him, not looking from his phone. Aziraphale had texted back, saying:  _ I look ridiculous. You are going to forget your love for me and leave me for another. At the very least you’re not going to want to get lunch with me and I'll have to resort to sharing a meal with the pigeons outside on a bench.  _

Lucifer was snickering. Crowley was in the middle of typing his reply when he heard his colleague laughing. “What?” Crowley asked. 

“You have the  _ dumbest _ look on your face,” Lucifer teased, “You look so  _ besotted.  _ This  _ angel _ must be special.” 

Crowley had made the mistake, after that first night, of telling Beelzebub and Anathema about calling Aziraphale ‘angel’. The two, thinking it was hilariously embarrassing, told the rest of the office. Mentally, Crowley cursed. He forgot about the screen name connection. 

“Okay, both of you,” He snapped, “Need to be on your  _ best _ behavior. Don’t go calling him angel, don’t call him my sugar baby, don’t… just don’t be yourselves. Be  _ nice. _ ” 

“Why, you’re scared we’ll judge him for cam work?” Ligur scoffed. “I don’t care about that.” 

Lucifer’s eyebrows rose, and Crowley let out a groan. “ _ Hastur _ ,” He half-snarled, half-cursed. They told each other  _ everything.  _ “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

“We’re not going to be dicks,” Lucifer said, after a moment. Crowley had been very upfront about taking the extra couple of days off of work after Aziraphale had come home from the hospital. Hastur had also texted the office about what happened, because he and Ligur told each other everything. And Ligur repeated everything to the office as well. And Crowley knew that they wouldn’t judge him. They’d all had pasts, had seen a lot in their time at the firm. 

_ We’re at the front, with Beezlebub, Dagon, and Newt,  _ Hastur texted. _Newt's giving him the paperwork to go on your insurance, like you asked. _

“Shit,” Crowley hissed, tearing off to the front. He had wanted to greet Aziraphale when he got there. Not leave him to have to deal with Crowley's insane coworkers. 

He made a dash to the front, where, sure enough, Aziraphale and Hastur were surrounded by  _ everyone _ . Even Beelzebub. This was supposed to be Beelzebub’s day off how were they even  _ here?  _ Fucking Hastur probably warned them.

“So your name is  _ really _ Aziraphale Fell?” Newt was asking, and Aziraphale gave a small giggle and a nod. He was looking at the paper Newt had asked him to fill out, delighting that he didn't have to squint to see any of the text. 

“Oh because  _ Newton  _ gets to be a judge?” He called, and he was  _ delighted _ at the way Aziraphale  _ brightened _ as he got closer. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale moved to him, and Crowley gave him a smile. “Hey Angel,” He said without thinking. On instinct he leaned in to give him a kiss, and then cursed at himself. There were snickers at him for using such a cheesy pet name, but Crowley ignored them. He pulled away to get a good look at him. 

“Alright, let’s see these glasses I’m apparently leaving you over,” He teased, giving a very over-the-top once-over. The frames were a very nice thin gold, accentuating and matching his eyes. They gave his eyes a wider effect. Glasses usually made their recipient look older. This was not the case for Aziraphale. Of course, Crowley though, bemusedly, this would make him look even  _ more _ innocent. He was going to get all sorts of looks for having Aziraphale on his arm, if he didn't already. “I think I can live with them,” Crowley decided, and gave a little wink. Aziraphale grinned at him. 

Then Aziraphale frowned, peering at him. “You have an odd mark I didn’t notice before,” Aziraphale wondered, and Beelzebub laughed very loudly. 

“Now he’s got working eyes,” Hastur snickered, “He might realize he could get someone prettier.”

“I can fire you,” Crowley called over, but Hastur ignored him. 

“Aziraphale, we have snacks and drinks in our breakroom. How do you take your coffee?” Anathema asked, grinning at them both. 

“Oh, usually with chocolate, sugar, cream, and no coffee,” Aziraphale answered, and then blushed. “If, of course, that’s an option.” 

Anathema looked like she was in love. That was just  _ adorable.  _

“Hot chocolate, just say hot chocolate.” Ligur said, coming up. He stepped forward to hold out a hand, “I’m Ligur, Hastur’s husband.”

Aziraphale’s whole face  _ lit up.  _ “I know you!” He said, looking absolutely  _ delighted _ . “Hastur’s told me so much about you.” And oh, he really was tall, dark, and handsome! Hastur wasn’t kidding, was he? 

“Yeah, same,” Ligur said, shaking his hand. And yeah, Hastur had mentioned he was young, but Ligur had forgotten how  _ young _ twenty-two really was. And Aziraphale didn't exactly look old for his age. No wonder he was protective. 

"Angel," Crowley asked, because fuck it, he wasn't going to just _not _his nickname because he worked with silly people. "Can you fill this out? It's so you can join my health insurance." 

Aziraphale pursed his lips, clearly still convinced it was all some scam. Crowley gave a soft sigh, and leaned in to whisper to Aziraphale just how he would _thank him_ later. With a blush, Azirpahale signed everything. 

Satisfied, Crowley passed the form back to Newt. Anathema piped up, "So, hot chocolate for Aziraphale, Crowley what are you getting?" 

“You don’t need to get anything,” Crowley answered, “Aziraphale and I are going out to lunch.” 

“Oh, where?” Anathema asked, “I haven’t gone yet either.” 

“Me either,” Newt said, and to Crowley’s horror the rest of the office was _nodding along_. 

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, giving him a questioning half-smile. “I.. I think it would be nice to meet them. If that’s alright?” 

Crowley bit back a groan. He couldn’t say  _ no  _ to Aziraphale. “Alright, staff lunch,” He acquiesced. Cheers from the rest of the firm echoed, with people leaving to grab their bags or purses. Aziraphale leaned in to give him a  _ kiss _ of thanks. 

\----

As Crowley suspected, the rest of the firm  _ adored  _ Aziraphale. He couldn’t stop asking each of them questions about their jobs, what made them passionate, why they wanted to work in such a difficult field. For himself, Aziraphale demurred most questions. He didn’t hide what he did, and no one gave him a hard time for it, but it wasn’t something that Aziraphale felt  _ passionate _ about. He also didn’t really want to talk about his own past. 

“In the beginning, it made me feel empowered,” He confided to Anathema and Crowley. The three of them were seated at one end of the table. Crowley had laid a hand on Aziraphale’s cast as his angel ate a salad with the other hand. Normally, he knew, Aziraphale wasn’t a fan of most salads, but it was something he would be able to eat easily with just a fork. 

Aziraphale continued, “It was also nice to earn enough money to support myself. But… it’s very isolating. It’s just people leaving comments, or sending in money, or making  _ requests _ ,” his face twists a little, and Crowley moves his hand to squeeze his arm. 

“Do you still want to do it?” Crowley asked. It hadn’t occurred to him that Aziraphale wouldn’t want to maintain the channel, but so many things had happened in such a short amount of time. He hadn't thought through much in the long term. Just that he wanted Aziraphale to stay with him. 

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale admitted. “It’s not what I thought I would be doing, and it was something I was able to do just to survive. But hearing everyone share their dreams… it just makes me wish for something else.” 

“You still can do something else,” Anathema says, stealing the words from Crowley’s mouth. 

Hastur nodded. “You’re an infant, it’s not like age is stopping you,” He said, ignoring Crowley’s glare. 

“He’s not an  _ infant,”  _ Crowley snaps, but he does look at Aziraphale, “Anathema’s right, you also don’t have to decide anything right now.” 

Aziraphale smiled at him, and then changed the subject by asking Anathema for more of her story. Crowley let the conversation drop for now, and let Aziraphale get to know his colleagues. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	4. Love me tender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A resolution on two accounts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really built this chapter up in my head - I'm praying I do it justice XD 
> 
> You are all the kindest and most incredible people - I am truly blessed to get a comment from each and every one of you. This story is for all of you! 
> 
> A note: Aziraphale wears a dress in this (to show off) and this is that dress: https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/609117766414237706/622582595724771328/LB-302-5.jpg

They settle into a nice pattern the next few weeks. Crowley will wake up, sometimes cuddled up with Aziraphale, or sometimes his angel will already be awake and cooking breakfast in the kitchen. Only having full use of one hand has not slowed Aziraphale down - he had mastered preparing omelettes with one hand,  _ and _ getting toast ready at the same time. One achievement at a time. They’ll enjoy breakfast together, and then Crowley will give him a kiss and go off to work. Aziraphale is left to his own devices at that point, and he’ll usually go through Crowley’s library. Admittedly, Crowley doesn’t _have_ much of a library - most of it consists of classic novels that have a nice visual aesthetic, books about astronomy, and his old textbooks from law school. Having already read most of the classic novels, Aziraphale tended to focus on the law books. 

Having glasses is  _ wonderful _ . It speeds up his reading time, and he can easily read every street sign from the car when Hastur takes him to the firm to have lunch with Crowley, which they do every day. When Aziraphale mentions this to him, the driver merely rolls his eyes. 

“I can’t believe it took you _this_ long to get glasses. Don’t they test in schools?”

“They do,” Aziraphale agreed, “But we were in such _long_ lines, and I was always so impatient to read. Also, I could always hear what the person in front of me would read. All I ever had to do was memorize and repeat.” This makes Hastur shake his head. Aziraphale was a smart kid, but in moments like these Hastur bemoaned the fact that he was taking care of an  _ idiot.  _

“Unbelievable. You really are perfect for Crowley.” 

Aziraphale gives a little  _ wiggle  _ in delight, and smiles. 

Hastur gave a snort, but it was a fond snort. 

\---

The atmosphere at the firm when they arrive that day is _tense_. Hastur goes to see Ligur, which he does every day, and Aziraphale goes to look for Crowley. 

Crowley, Beelzebub, and Lucifer are the three managing partners of their firm, which is aptly named Crowley, Morningstar, & Fly. Beelzebub is the most skilled at handling the main decisions the firm makes, and handling day-to-day responsibilities. Lucifer has a natural charisma, and brings in most of the new clients that they work with. Crowley’s skill is with the people themselves - forging one on one connections with their defendants as they move through a case. 

The  _ Dr. Sable V Tadfield Times story _ has made news, very public news, and rarely can Aziraphale and Crowley turn on the television in the evenings without the news, entertainment channels, or any talk-show host show running a new development on it. It’s insidious, and makes Aziraphale so  _ sad _ to watch. There's so much debate on both sides, the public torn over the evidence against such a _famous _public figure. Crowley will usually grimace, and default to Netflix to watch _The Next Generation_. But on his own time, Aziraphale had been following the story. Brian observed and interviewed people who took the food plan, he spoke with the product manufacturers, and supermarkets in the neighborhood. People who went on the diet, he had posited, received _none_ of the daily recommended nutrients they were _supposed_ to get. Dr. Sable had plans to bring his brand of food to local schools for students on a free lunch program - this story was hurting his business - and he wanted to sue Brian for libel. Brian wanted to protect vulnerable kids who relied on that program to get at least one full healthy meal. The public was split at such a beloved figure getting torn down, and Brian was under fire for reporting it. 

_ The Times _ went to Crowley’s firm, but they were struggling to go against Archangel & Heaven. Aziraphale’s ex’s firm had gone on the offensive, putting story after story about the  _ Times _ being an unreliable news source and employing idealistic young reporters who lacked proper experience. Half of Crowley’s meetings with Brian were talking him off the proverbial edge. He never _told_ Aziraphale about it - he actually _respected_ attorney-client privilege - but Brian had taken to calling Crowley in a panic late some nights, and Aziraphale could hear the resulting conversation through the walls. Crowley always apologized after, but it was no issue with him. Aziraphale felt terrible that such a wonderful man was struggling with this at all. It was just so unfair to him.

So Aziraphale was not surprised to find Crowley in one of these meetings with Brian, and oh the young man looked _dreadfully_ worried. It made Aziraphale feel so poorly for him. Aziraphale contented himself with making small talk with Anathema while they wrapped up. The atmosphere at the office was just so tense - he really did understand the expression about cutting with knives and all that. It made him so _sad_ for everyone there. Finally, Crowley walked Brian out, and shook his hand while Anathema took him to the front desk. 

“Sorry angel,” Crowley apologized, giving him a kiss hello that Aziraphale returned. 

“Don’t worry about it dear,” Aziraphale waved him off. “Are you too busy for lunch?”

“Too busy to eat with you? Angel, if I _ever_ say no to that question I want you to have me committed.” Crowley vowed, and Aziraphale giggled. 

They left the building, heading to the restaurant that occupied the first floor. Most people who worked in the building tended to spend their lunches here, and Crowley and Aziraphale had made a habit of coming together - enough that the staff seemed to know them. They didn't know this, but the the staff had favorite patrons. There was a woman who came everyday who only ordered a cup of soup, and an iced tea. She was a favorite because she was polite and kept to herself. There was a man that would order something, and always find an issue and make a show of sending it back - he was not a favorite. Waiters would draw straws in the morning to balance out who would get the better customers and who would get the poor ones. Aziraphale and Crowley were favorites. Staff _loved _watching them together - the blond was always so _excited _over whatever special was advertised, and the redhead always smiled so indulgently that even the rude man thought it was lovely. It got to a point where even the cook made specials that didn't involve cutting, because Aziraphale still had that horrible cast on his wrist. So they were greeted warmly as they entered the resturaunt, and were escorted to a lovely table by the window, near the outdoor patio. Unbeknownst to them, a near brawl got placed over who would be their waiter. Aziraphale's attention was rather preoccupied by how distracted and fidgety Crowley was. After they placed their orders, Aziraphale decided to muster up the courage to try and start to say something. 

“How are you doing? _Really_? How is work going?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley looked hesitant to answer. Aziraphale let him hem and haw until their food arrived, idly keeping up some nonsense about trying a new recipe for dinner later. As their food was placed, Aziraphale tried again.  “It’s alright, I know you can’t share details. I don’t care for the particulars anyway. But how  _ are you.  _ Generally?” 

“_I’m_ fine. It’s just this case. It’s… not going well,” Crowley said. Aziraphale gave a sympathetic  _ hum, _ putting down his fork to hold Crowley’s hand with his good one. 

“I’m sorry my darling,” Aziraphale said, “Will Brian be alright?” 

“He’ll still have a job, but-_ngk_,” Crowley broke off, unable to share more. He was picking at his food, poor dear. Not at all eating. Aziraphale pursed his lips. This was  _ exactly  _ what that _foul_ man wanted, and it was just so _hypocritical_ for Gabriel to condone this after-

Wait. 

A metaphorical light bulb was going off for Aziraphale. _How could he have missed this?_ He bit down a smile. He had to be careful. Give this idea with caution. Maybe he didn’t have anything _really_. 

Aziraphale picked up his fork again. “You know,” He said, keeping a faux-casual voice, “It’s a little ironic that Gabriel would represent Dr. Sable, considering the whole Ms. Carmine affair.” 

“What was that?” Crowley asked. 

In between bites, Aziraphale answered. “When I first started dating him, they had represented a peace-minded nonprofit, trying to keep a community together. This was one of their more kind  _ publicity inspiring _ early cases, suing a war reporter for ‘_inciting violence among the disadvantaged’._ Of course, she was guilty, but at the time she was living in the targeted area for the  _ majority of her time _ which she was able to prove, and so she could claim a type of whistleblower status for defending her community and shedding light on the "truth". She won, and their firm had a  _ field day _ . Oh, he was _furious_.” Aziraphale shuddered lightly at the memory. They had also squeezed the nonprofit dry to earn their legal fees, and that quickly ended their "good will" cases. It had bothered Aziraphale, but somehow at the time Gabriel had convinced him it was _fine. _

He looked at Crowley, who was staring at him with  _ alarm.  _ “Aziraphale,” he said, in a very deadly, calm sort of voice. “Do you remember the name-”

“ _ Citizens for Peace V.  _ _Scarlet_,” Aziraphale recited, and in an  _ instant  _ Crowley was out of his seat, typing _furiously_ on his phone to place a phone call. He made a beeline behind him to the outside patio. Aziraphale bemusedly watched him gesture emphatically, most likely urging Anathema or Ligur to look up that case to establish a potential precedent. Satisfied, Aziraphale took a sip of his iced tea, and did a slight  _ wiggle  _ in victory. He did get to help!

Crowley got back ten minutes later, after Aziraphale had already finished his food. The lawyer ignored his own remaining lunch, in favor of draining his coffee. 

“I’m going to have to get back,” He said, waiving their waiter over for the check. “I’m so sorry love.”

“I figured you might,” Aziraphale said, grinning. He seemed so  _ distracted,  _ but with a newfound excited energy that was just so _endearing_. 

They returned to the office to a  _ completely _ changed atmosphere. People were smiling, there was frantic running up and down the aisles to exchange new information, and Anathema was there to greet them. She _lunged_ forward, pulling Aziraphale in a  _ hug  _ kissing _both_ his cheeks. 

He’s gaped _ _ at her, but she doesn’t notice. “You did it!” She shouted, repeating different variations of, “_You did it_,” and, “_You solved it._”

She wasn't not alone. Lucifer came out, also pulling Aziraphale into a hug. “I’m going  _ straight _ to that courthouse tomorrow to read this out to Michael  _ myself,”  _ he cackled, looking _ecstatic_. “We can move to an instant jury vote at the end of the day!” 

Aziraphale found himself smiling - the enthusiasm was _contagious_, for certain. Lucifer let go of him, off to excitedly call his wife that he’ll be working late for a  _ good  _ reason. Crowley pulled him in for a kiss. 

“Thank you,” He whispered, and Aziraphale smiled at him. “Of course,” He replied. “It was _nothing_, I told you I loved reading about cases.”

“Yeah, but you knew enough to have it near-_memorized_ and just the _right_ one too,” Crowley said with a grin. “We’ve been at this for  _ weeks _ and didn’t know it.”

“Sometimes it just takes a different set of eyes,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley gave him another kiss. 

“I’m going to have to get back to work, and prepare Brian for tomorrow,” Crowley said, “But Hastur will take you home. And…” He gives a little  _ devilish _ grin, “I’m going to have a plan for tonight, to say  _ thank you.”  _

Aziraphale gave a little shudder. He couldn’t  _ wait  _ for tonight. 

\----

Hastur drove Aziraphale home, looking happier then Aziraphale had seen him in a long time. This case really had been wearing on all of them.

“Can’t believe with all their degrees they couldn’t see what you saw,” Hastur chuckled, “I’m going to give Ligur so much shit for that.” 

“It’s not their fault,” Aziraphale defended, but the _pride_ in Hastur’s gaze made him feel so very _nice_. “There’s so much information they need to be able to retain at a moment’s notice.”

“And so far _you’ve_ been the best one at that,” Hastur pointed out, and Aziraphale gave a little ‘hm’ in response. A comfortable silence overcame them. 

“You think about what you want to do? For the future?” Hastur asked. “Stop fidgeting with your cast,” He snapped, noticing Aziraphale lightly pulling at the fraying edge. 

“I’m not sure,” Aziraphale admitted, tucking his right arm out of the way. “I haven’t been on my channel in a while. It’s felt isolating and cold. Today felt _incredible_ to help them.” 

Hastur gave a plaintive hum, and kept driving. There were thoughts he _wanted_ to push, but this was the sort of thing Aziraphale had to decide and figure out on his own. Besides, he had already come such a long way in his own recovery, and they didn’t want to go too fast for him. Also in the articles he found online about looking after young adults talked about giving them the freedom to make their own choices. 

Aziraphale got out of the car, giving Hastur a hug goodbye, and went up to Crowley’s apartment to wait for him. Only he didn’t want to just sit around and _wait_. He wanted to do something  _ nice _ for his lover. So Aziraphale began working on a marinade for chicken, and began preparing carrots and small potatoes. Crowley hadn’t touched his lunch - he was going to be  _ so hungry _ when he came home. As Aziraphale finished prepping, he set some times to make sure he could get everything in the oven for when Crowley would most likely be getting home. Then he took breaks to change into something a little more _alluring_. While he waited for the food to finish heating, he applied very subtle makeup. 

Finally, hours later, he texted Crowley,  _ hope your hungry, _ with a photo of the roast. 

_ Starving _ , was the reply,  _ but only for you baby _

Were Crowley there, he would have been very sad to know he was missing out on a very _lovely_ blush. 

As it was, Crowley was regretting eating the Chinese takeout the firm had ordered when they began working into the late afternoon. He really _wasn’t_ hungry for food. Rather, he was _starving_ for Aziraphale. But he let the elevator take him up while he rocked back and forth. The door  _ dinged _ to let him off at the penthouse and he was delightfully surprised by Aziraphale greeting him in a  _ lovely  _ dress. 

“You’d think _I_ was the one that did something that needed rewarding,” Crowley said, amused. He pulled Aziraphale close by the hips, and kissed him deeply. His hands let the fabric ride up in his hands, so he could get at the _lovely_ skin on his upper thighs. 

“You’ve taken such great care of me,” Aziraphale demurred, stepping away from his arms. “So I wanted to give _you_ something nice.” 

“You’re _already_ nice,” Crowley said, but Aziraphale was heading off to prepare a plate. An _idea_ was beginning to occur to Crowley. 

“Hold on love, did you eat dinner?” He asked, and Aziraphale shook his head. With his back turned to him, Aziraphale missed the sinister _grin_ on Crowley’s face. He stepped forward to wrap his arms around Aziraphale from behind. 

“Only make one plate darling, please?” Crowley urged. He nosed at Aziraphale’s temple, pressing a kiss to his hair. Aziraphale was completely red. 

“Yes dear,” Aziraphale was helpless to respond in any other way. 

“Good boy,” Crowley growled playfully, and went to put away the rest of the food as Aziraphale went to the table. 

“I wish I hadn’t eaten with the firm,” Crowley said, forcing his voice to stay casual, “Because this looks  _ so much better  _ than the takeout we got. I’ve been spoiled with your cooking angel.” 

“Oh it was nothing,” Aziraphale grinned, “Anyone could have done it!” 

“Now that’s not true,” Crowley chided, and nipped at him. He sat down, and drummed his fingers on the table. After a moment, he lightly patted his thigh with a  _ pointed _ look at Aziraphale. “Blush for me and sit down,” He ordered gently, and to his delight Aziraphale did exactly as he asked. 

“You’re so _good_ for me,” Crowley whispered, picking up one of the potatoes. They were fingerling, and smelled incredible. It _all_ did. “Tonight is about you love, it’s going to be about how you saved my entire firm earlier today, how you’ve helped take care of me, and how you’ve given me such wonderful meals. Open,” and Aziraphale opens his mouth, and Crowley fed the potato to him. 

They continue in this vein, Crowley asking Aziraphale to take bites of food while thanking him for everything he had done in the last couple of weeks. How Aziraphale had steamed his suits, and made sure Crowley ate food that was _actually_ _prepared_, not delivered. Aziraphale ate everything Crowley asked him to, and it just feels so  _ wonderful _ . It’s more intoxicating than wine, this sensation that Crowley is giving him. It’s more fulfilling than any food he’s ever tasted, because he’s enjoying it  _ with  _ Crowley, in his arms, doing  _ exactly  _ as his lover is asking. But is this really enough for his boyfriend? Oh, Aziraphale had wanted this to be about thanking Anthony, how was he getting anything out of this? 

For his part, Crowley snorts when Aziraphale brings that up. 

“Are  _ you  _ enjoying yourself, angel?” He asks pointedly, and Aziraphale swallows. Anthony has always wanted his total honesty… so… 

“Yes,” He admits. Getting taken care of, getting to sit in his lap and lean on him, it’s _nice_. 

Anthony smiled at him. “Then this is what I want. Now take another bite,” and Aziraphale chews on the chicken. 

After a few more bites, Aziraphale admits that he’s feeling full, and Crowley lets him off of his lap. 

“Thank you, that was exactly what I wanted,” Crowley said, placing a finger under Aziraphale’s chin to tilt his face up. He places a kiss to his lips. “Stay right here.” He puts the plate in the sink, resolving to deal with it later, before going back to Aziraphale. 

“Wrap your arms around my neck,” He orders, and Aziraphale listens, lifting himself onto his tiptoes to theatrically wrap his arms around Crowley’s neck with a dreamlike, cheeky grin. Crowley snickers, hands grabbing at the skirt of his dress and letting the material bunch beneath his hands. His hands slipped under the dress, and Aziraphale gave a little whimper as his hands groped at his arse. Crowley shushed him mockingly, grinning as Aziraphale squirmed in his arms. 

He let his hands  _ squeeze,  _ and Aziraphale  _ jerked _ , moving all the closer into Crowley. The lawyer grinned and  _ lifted,  _ earning a surprised laugh from Aziraphale who moved his legs on instinct. 

“How can you  _ lift me?”  _ Aziraphale asked, sounding breathless. He was  _ swooning,  _ Crowley realized with delight. “I’m too heavy!” 

“Don’t seem so heavy to me,” Crowley teased, _jostling_ Aziraphale ever so slightly. The motion made him  _ yelp  _ and cling all the tighter. That earned him a dark chuckle, and Crowley walked them towards the bedroom. 

Aziraphale expected to be thrown back on the bed and  _ pounced upon _ \- which had been his plan all along. He leaned in to kiss Crowley as he walked them back, and his love kissed back. The  _ rush _ this all gave Aziraphale was just so powerful - it was better than any kind of drug. He had never had any, but he was sure he was right. With his good hand he held the back of his head, and his left arm clung to his back. Only when they got to the bedroom, Crowley did not throw him on the bed and pounce. 

No. 

Crowley  _ knelt,  _ gently setting him down, as if they had never done this before. “Scoot back darling,” He murmured. Suddenly feeling very shy, Aziraphale did as he asked. His right hand went to the bottom of the dress to pull it off, but Crowley placed a hand on his. 

“Don’t.” 

So he didn’t. 

Like a serpent - there was no better metaphor - Crowley snaked his way up his body, gently placing his right hand out to the side. He repeated the same with his other arm. “I want you to keep your hands right there, can you do that for me? That would make me very happy.” 

Aziraphale wanted to make Crowley happy - how could he want anything else? He nodded. 

“Thank you,” Crowley leaned in to kiss him, and Aziraphale eagerly returned it. 

Crowley’s hands gently felt at the material of the dress, letting his hands grope over his chest where he knew Aziraphale was normally sensitive. “Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale gasped in between kisses, “Please just have me.” 

“I do have you,” Was the answer he got. Crowley grinned down at him. “I am having you, are you in a _rush_ baby?”

Aziraphale blushed and shook his head. “Good,” Crowley answered and placed kisses to his neck, letting himself nibble. "Because I'm not." Aziraphale _moaned_, and couldn’t resist _squirming_ when Crowley bit at a sensitive spot under his ear. 

“Aziraphale,” And _oh_, he sounded so  _ sexy  _ when he growled like that, “I thought I asked you to hold _still_. Do I need to _punish_ you?” 

“No!” Although that  _ did _ sound wonderful. But Azirpahale wanted to be good. Crowley wanted him to be good. He could sit still, right? 

As if he could sense what the younger man was thinking, Crowley gave a dark chuckle, and moved down to nibble at his collarbone. “You got to eat earlier,” Crowley said in between bites, “So now it’s _my_ turn.” 

His hands moved to the skirt again, sliding his hands underneath to feel Aziraphale’s thighs. “You have the _loveliest_ thighs,” Crowley said, “I could spend _eternity_ in between them.”

“But you’d have to eat,” Aziraphale chided, and Crowley wanted to laugh. Of _course_ that was his response. 

“I have what I’d need _right_ here,” and he leaned down to suck a bruise on his inner thigh. It made Aziraphale _gasp_ and arch his back. Crowley’s hands had been gripping at his thighs, and his nails dug in to keep his love rooted in place. Slowly, they slid up to remove his underwear. It was lace, and felt so  _ lovely  _ against his fingertips. His hand teasingly felt along the material, and Aziraphale whimpered as his cock _pulsed_ under his hand. 

“Please, please,” He begged, but Crowley ignored him. He pulled on Aziraphale’s underwear, gently sliding it off. Then, he pushed his hands back underneath the dress, beginning to slide it up and off of him. Aziraphale moved and shifted to let it come off, realizing that Crowley was still dressed. 

“What about you?” Aziraphale made a motion to take off is shirt, but stopped himself. Remembering his earlier command, Aziraphale put his arms back where he had asked. 

“Good boy,” Crowley grinned, delighted at how  _ good _ Aziraphale was being for him. As a reward, he kissed his way down his angel’s chest, and took his length into his mouth.

“_Oh_!” Aziraphale cried out, arching his back. Crowley grinned to himself, humming. The vibrations made his lover shudder and moan, and Crowley lifted his head up.

"Doing alright baby?" He asked, and delighted at the moan he was answered with. 

"_Oh_! Oh Crowley, please," Aziraphale begged, "_Please_ don't stop." 

Crowley hushed him, stroking his hands up and down his stomach and hips. What a _beautiful_ body Aziraphale had - he felt lucky indeed to get to have him. "Shh," Crowley said, placing kisses to his stomach. "It's alright, I have you, I got you." 

Once more, Crowley took him into his mouth. His tongue swirled around, and he delighted in the _noises_ he could wring out of Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale felt positively heavenly, near dizzy with rapture. How glorious this felt, he gasped to try and get enough air. The feeling of Crowley around him, over him, on him - it was everything. The pleasure, oh, the  _ pleasure  _ from that damned tongue coupled with the sensation of his hands gently stroking his stomach. He could barely stand it. 

For his part, Crowley was in no rush. This was  _ one  _ of his plans for the night, and he wanted his lover to enjoy himself. It was the least he could do.

The attorney felt Aziraphale  _ squirm _ and smirked - his moans were taking a higher pitch. Being fed and picked up like that had affected his angel too, no question about it. 

"Crowley, darling, please-" Aziraphale warned, "If you don't stop-"

Crowley reluctantly pulled off to give him predatory grin. He bit back a chuckle as Aziraphale gave a moan that sounded equal parts relieved and disappointed. 

"I don't plan on stopping, so neither should you darling," And he goes back, taking Aziraphale back in his mouth while his hand slides behind his balls. Crowley's thumb presses down on the skin just before his arse and Aziraphale's moans reach a crescendo. Unable to hold back, his angel comes down his throat, and Crowley didn't let up until Aziraphale finished moaning and just took deep breaths to try and come down. 

Crowley lifts himself up, crawling up Aziraphale's body until they are at eye level. He takes that moment to absorb every inch of his lover, his angel. Aziraphale's pupils are dilated completely. There is such a lovely flush to his cheeks and he looks so  _ gone _ and under that it gave Crowley a  _ rush _ . 

"Hi," Aziraphale whispers, giving him a smile. Crowley returns it, cupping his face to kiss him back. 

He broke away. "Hello, how are we doing?" 

"I feel… overwhelmed," Aziraphale admitted, "But I don't want you to stop."

"I don't plan to," Crowley promised. 

He reached over to where they had kept lubricant, and poured some on his fingers. He curled one arm behind Aziraphale's neck, and teased at his entrance with his other hand. Aziraphale gave a moan as he felt Crowley insert a finger. He squirmed and Crowley kissed him. 

"I got you," He encouraged, curling his fingers just enough to make his angel  _ gasp _ and  _ arch  _ his back. _There_ it was, Crowley found his prostate. 

"It's alright," Crowley continued, circling his fingers. The way Aziraphale moaned was  _ perfect,  _ and the flush he had was just lovely. He kept his fingers moving at a steady pace, not letting up from teasing at that bundle of nerves. "There you are, opening up so wonderfully for me my love." 

Aziraphale didn't know how Crowley did it, but he was hard again, flushed all over. "Crowley, Crowley, my darling," he babbled, "I-I can't-"

"You can," Crowley added another finger and Aziraphale  _ whimpered _ . "Just fall apart for me, it's alright, I got you." 

He nibbled on his ear, moving his three fingers at a quickened pace. Bruising kisses were placed to his throat and collarbones. Crowley trailed his head down further, flicking a tongue against a nipple. Aziraphale keened, arching his back and pressing his chest into his mouth. Crowley bit back a grin, and kept his tongue where it was. 

With the gentle urging - that tongue - the feeling of Crowley's hands, Aziraphale couldn't help but let out a strangled gasp, unable to stop panting. He came, untouched, unable to keep his eyes open under the onslaught. 

Crowley kept his fingers where they were, riding out the aftershocks. Aziraphale slowly came back down, _trembling_ in his arms.

"Still with me?" Crowley asked, lifting his head up. Aziraphale's eyes fluttered open, and he nodded. 

"Good," Crowley surged up to kiss him, Aziraphale leaned up to meet him. 

It was too overwhelming - the way his lover was  _ focusing _ on him was so  _ much _ . 

"Please," he whispered, "Please Crowley," 

"What do you want?" Crowley asked, as if he hadn't been making Aziraphale feel like the center of the universe. Crowley ran a hand through his hair, and Aziraphale reached up with his good hand to return the gesture. 

"How can you ask that," Aziraphale breathed, "After everything you've done for me? I wanted tonight to be about you and you rather spoiled it," the accusing nature of his tone is belied by the smile he shines at Crowley. 

"Oh I'm so sorry," Crowley lies, nipping at his nose, "forgive me baby?"

"Always," Aziraphale answers, scrunching his nose at the  _ nip _ . 

Crowley leaned back, pulling off his shirt finally and tearing off his pants. He lifted one of Aziraphale's legs, encouraging him to wrap it around him. "You can wrap your right arm around me, but please don't use your left, alright?"

Aziraphale nodded, stroking his hair with his good hand. He gave Crowley a kiss as his lover rolled a condom on, and helped shift to let him settle between his legs. Crowely didn't stop kissing him as he pressed inside, keeping track of every noise and expression on his face to make sure he wasn't in pain. And he  _ wasn't _ in any pain. Crowley had done such a  _ lovely  _ job  _ relaxing  _ him that Aziraphale suspected _nothing_ could possibly hurt him. It felt incredible, just like it  _ always _ did when they were together. Without him realizing it, a gasp left his throat. 

_ Oh,  _ was all Aziraphale could think,  _ he does love me. He really does love me.  _

_ This _ was what love was supposed to be like. This was what a _positive_ relationship was, a _real_ relationship with two people that loved each other and wanted to make _each other happy_. 

Without his permission, tears fell from his eyes as the weight of his own thoughts sank in. 

Crowley, who was now fully inside him, noticed the tears and paused. "Angel, what's wrong love?"

Aziraphale swallowed, choking out a laugh. "Nothing, absolutely _nothing_, because you _love_ me. And _I_ love _you_." 

"Glad you noticed," Crowley grinned, kissing away the tears that fell. 

"Do get a move on," Aziraphale demanded, trying to keep more tears from falling, "And just please continue to make love to me." 

Because that's what this was. It was  _ lovemaking.  _ Crowley grinned, glad that his younger lover seemed to be _understanding_ that at long last. 

Crowley let his hips move, thrusting in and out of his lover. Intermittently he pressed kisses to his face while Aziraphale gasped with pleasure. His arms were around Aziraphale's shoulders, and he felt as though he could shield his angel from anything that would come to them - to anything that could cause him harm. The fantasy of it made him groan. It was on par with the feeling in his cock. That was nice, it was always nice when he got to bury himself in Aziraphale, it was positively heavenly, but it was so much more meaningful for him to know that his angel was enjoying himself. And he  _ was _ , no one could _fake_ making those noises. He would know, Crowley had listened to Aziraphale fake a _lot_ of moans from when he worked on his channel. His angel had even  _ shown _ him how he would fake it before. Aziraphale had thought he was just entertaining a fun conversation, not knowing that Crowley was taking it all to heart so he would _know_ how to be a good enough lover. 

And it paid off as he nibbled on his neck, his ear, anywhere that got him a whimper. His hands ran up and down his sides and chest, idly toying with his nipples. Aziraphale shuddered beneath him, taking in deep breaths as his hips moved to meet Crowley's thrusts. 

They rode out their pleasure together. Crowley was spurred on by Aziraphale's moans, which made him go  _ faster _ and Aziraphale whimpered at Crowley's response. Higher and higher they went until it became too much. It wasn't clear who finished first, but it almost seemed like they were coming  _ together.  _ Because that's what they did.

Crowley leaned down, kissing away the last few tears that had fallen from his Angel's eyes. Aziraphale worked on getting his breathing back under control, keeping him close with his good arm. 

Aziraphale was _surprisingly_ strong. Crowley discovered this when he tried to pull off of him to clean them off. He laughed as Aziraphale's arm  _ tightened _ and wouldn't let him up.

"C'mon angel, you want to lay in our mess?" He teased. Aziraphale  _ despised  _ messes. 

"_Our_? This is  _ yours _ ," Aziraphale replied primly. 

"Oh? You mean  _ this,"  _ He stroked Aziraphale's stomach, feeling the remains from his lover's orgasm from earlier. "Didn't come from you?"

Aziraphale snickered. "It was  _ your _ fault," He answered, but let Crowley up to grab a washcloth from the bathroom. Despite himself, his eyelids fluttered, and he felt himself yawn. Goodness, Crowley really did  _ wear him out _ , didn't he? 

Crowley came back to find him dozing on their bed, and took a moment to take him in. The blond curls that framed his face really _did_ make him look like an angel. For a moment, Crowley debated getting a painter to create this image - to immortalize Aziraphale with all the great models of history. But that would involve someone getting to see him like this, and he couldn't bear that. No. It was best for him to commit it to his own memory, and no one else's. 

Aziraphale's eyes blinked open, and he gave Crowley a soft smile. 

"You were wonderful," Aziraphale said, "Just truly  _ marvelous _ my dear. Thank you."

In return Crowley gave him a soft smile. He made quick work of cleaning them both off, and pulled Aziraphale into his arms so his angel could rest his head on his chest. Aziraphale smiled up at him, scrunching his face. 

"I love you," Aziraphale whispered, as if it were some great secret. 

And maybe, for Aziraphale, until very recently, it had been. 

So Crowley ran a hand through his curls and pressed a kiss to his temple. "And I love you," he promised. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A decision, an excursion, and a party unfold something pivotal for our young hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!! So sorry this is coming so late! I'm hoping that the wordcount for the chapter (which is clocking in at over 12,000 holy shit) will make up for it!! My job goes through weird phases where everything is just so stressful and awful, and my schedule gives me very little time to write (I work full-time and am in grad school) but I'm trying to give this story the path I want it to have! I built up this chapter WAAAY more in my head so I'm hoping it's okay. 
> 
> Also I make a joke about personal training and being a gym class teacher - it's not meant to offend, and I apologize if it does! Lucifer makes a little joke to try and lighten a mood. 
> 
> We also have Lilith in this story! If you haven't read my other stuff, my Lilith is headcannoned at Gal Gadot because my crush on her is all-consuming. When she is introduced, just picture her from the scene in Wonder Woman when she wore the blue dress.

The next morning, for the first time, Aziraphale and Crowley wake up together. Aziraphale sleepily  _ noses _ into Crowley’s chest, who pulls him closer on instinct. They lay together, still, in this pause of time. It's a  _ wonderful _ stillness, where they can just lay  _ together _ in silence without the alarm going off and forcing them to go about their day and pull away from each other. For a moment, Crowley lets his mind wander to a fantasy where they  _ can _ just lay together and not move. A fantasy where he can stop time and stay in this moment forever, where he doesn't have to do anything but hold Aziraphale close and occasionally make love to him. Maybe the alarm will never go off. 

And then it does. 

Crowley, as he always does, gives a  _ groan _ , because he  _ despises _ waking up. Aziraphale gives a sleepy laugh. 

“We need to wake up,” He said, not moving at all. “You have to appear in court.” Crowley groaned in protest, but Aziraphale was right.

“You should come with,” Crowley said, finally opening his eyes. At least it meant he got to see Aziraphale slowly wake up. He was  _ adorable _ \- Crowley  _ loved _ watching his eyes blink open and slowly get situational awareness. Crowley pressed his point. “It’s only  _ because _ of  _ you _ we’re going to get to move to a verdict anyway.” 

Aziraphale pursed his lips, and looked a little worried. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley wanted to hit himself. Right, Aziraphale probably wasn't ready to see Gabriel just yet. 

“Of course, I’m sorry.” He pressed a kiss to his forehead. “But I’m pretty sure  _ he _ won’t be there. He and Michael don’t share cases - she likes to deal with us the majority of the time to upset Lucifer by her presence. She'll be in court today, not him."

That seemed to help sway Aziraphale in favor, but he didn't look convinced. 

There had to be something that would help sway him. And in light of everything Aziraphale had done, there had to be a _reward_ of sorts. Last night was  _ wonderful  _ but if they were going to be together, and if Aziraphale was going to have more of a role in his professional life (which Crowley hoped would be the case), then Crowley needed to step up. He needed to do something to help show Aziraphale how much he valued his love’s input as a member of his team. But Aziraphale already had books. What else would he want? 

A metaphorical light-bulb went off for Crowley. "We can also go shopping after."

Aziraphale  _ loved  _ clothing. Not that he wore much beyond the few items he had packed out of that sad sad apartment - but Crowley wasn’t a complete idiot despite what his colleagues said. He saw how Aziraphale’s eyes would be drawn to clothing - how impressed he was by everyone’s wardrobe at the office. More than once, when he had been finishing a meeting, he would overhear Anathema and Aziraphale going over a particular trend in clothing. Aziraphale  _ liked  _ fashion, but probably didn’t pursue it for the same reason he hadn’t been to a doctor until Crowley begged him. The cost. 

_ That _ caught Aziraphale's attention. "Shopping? Why?" 

Crowley grinned. "Why not? Also, if you're going to spend more time with me at work, or at events, you should have something  _ nice _ . Something to let people know how worthy I am to have your attention. I want to get you something nice to wear. If I can get you something half as incredible as the things you can say _no one_ will be able to handle it."

Aziraphale flushed at the cheek. Well… that all sounded rather  _ lovely _ . He hadn't had new clothes in… how long had it been? And maybe there were things Crowley wanted him to wear. "Alright," He agreed, giving a little  _ wiggle _ , "Let's go to court, together."

\------

Aziraphale had forgotten how  _ exciting  _ it was to be in a courtroom. He had always loved getting to see Gabriel in court, and watch the way the process would unfold. Though, now he wasn’t sure if it was watching  _ Gabriel _ he had liked, or getting to see the  _ process _ . 

Here, he knew with absolute certainty that it was  _ both _ . 

Anthony and Lucifer were seated next to Brian at the Defendant’s side. The rest of the firm seemed to be behind them - this was a big case that had taken so much of their time, and all were determined to be there to hear the outcome. Aziraphale sat on the aisle next to Ligur, Hastur was on the other side of his husband. They were even holding hands! It was so precious. But Ligur looked mighty angry when he had said that. Hastur had  _ snorted _ . 

“We’re not like your lawyer ‘Zira,” Hastur said, ignoring Aziraphale’s protest that  _ that wasn’t his name. _ “We’re not as public with our affection like you and him. Not at work anyway.” 

“Oh, of course!” Aziraphale said, feeling a little embarrassed. His face fell at embarrassing the two. “I’m so very sorry.” 

Ligur cursed quietly, already annoyed at himself for getting annoyed with Aziraphale. Hastur didn’t tell him about the big sad doe eyes.  _ Disgusting.  _ It wasn’t cute. Not at all. 

He was lying. It was adorable. “It’s fine,” He said shortly, “Don’t worry about it. Just  _ stop making that face.”  _

“What face?” Aziraphale was confused. “And… Hastur why are you  _ laughing _ ?”

This was the greatest day of Hastur’s life. Ligur was a  _ sucker  _ for something cute and innocent, and Aziraphale’s big pleading eyes fit the bill. It took a _monster_ to not be affected by them, and despite the stereotype about lawyers being the devil, they weren’t _inhumane_. He made the right call not mentioning the innocent eyes and letting this play out naturally. 

“Don’t worry about it ‘Zira,” Hastur said, ignoring Aziraphale mumbling  _ that’s not my name _ in reply. 

Meanwhile, Anathema was briefing Crowley and Lucifer on some final details, before the bailiff began to call for attention. She quickly darted back, gently pushing Aziraphale, Ligur, and Hastur to scoot over so she could squeeze in. 

They were called to rise as the judge entered, and Aziraphale did, appreciating the chance to admire how  _ dashing _ his partner - his  _ love -  _ looked in a suit. Aziraphale himself was dressed modestly, in a button down shirt. It made him a little embarrassed to sit with the rest of Crowley's colleagues, given how _professional_ they all looked. Maybe that was probably why he and Crowley were going to get nicer things later. For Anthony, he  _ would _ . It would be nice to see him in court more often if he got  _ this _ view every time. They were all seated, and Aziraphale watched with bated breath as the process unfolded. 

The judge announced that after careful deliberation, Brian was to be found completely innocent. Several people gave  _ hushed  _ reactions - Anathema and other members of the firm let out small  _ cheers  _ of victory. Aziraphale himself gave a little  _ wiggle  _ in delight. 

He cast a glance over at Michael and Dr. Sable. They looked incredibly unhappy. For a moment, Aziraphale thought about Gabriel, and felt an intense weight  _ lift _ off his chest at the knowledge he wouldn’t have to deal with the _horrid_ mood Gabriel would undoubtedly be in later - he _hated_ losing. That realization was more dizzying then he realized, and he slumped slightly with a new kind of relief. 

Ligur very subtly squeezed his arm reassuringly, and Aziraphale gave a grin in reply. There was more the judge was saying, about how people should really take a second look into this food plan by Dr. Sable. And with Brian’s article now  _ defended _ by this ruling, it would hold up stronger than ever for the public. But Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to take in the words - he just wanted to bask in the feeling of getting to be part of something so  _ meaningful _ . He got to help defend a reporter who had been innocent. Shed light on corruption. Not let the system take advantage of someone. That was  _ amazing.  _

All told, it was a short court session, and soon the case was officially declared closed. There was a recess called before the next case was set to begin. 

Brian leapt up the moment he could, pulling Crowley into a hug. Aziraphale laughed at how startled his love was by the gesture, and then Brian turned to hug Lucifer, who was more ready to return that hug. 

Anathema gave Aziraphale a hug, who returned it. They all filed out of the courtroom, congregating in the hall to celebrate. 

Aziraphale approached Crowley, who smiled back at him. “You did so  _ wonderfully _ ,” Aziraphale said, leaning up to give Crowley a  _ kiss _ . The attorney wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s waist and kissed him back. Lucifer made a stupid joke about public displays of affection, and Crowley resisted raising his middle finger. They were at a Courthouse after all. 

“_Well done_,” They broke apart at the sound of a new voice. One Aziraphale hadn’t really heard in a long time. 

It was Michael. 

She stood there, stoic and imposing, looking over them all. It didn’t matter that they outnumbered her - somehow she was able to look down on all of them, standing just as tall as Lucifer. 

“You seem to have gotten a…  _ lucky  _ break. I applaud your strategy. I’m sure this will be a topic of conversation this Friday, at the State Attorney’s quarterly cocktail reception,” She continued, her gaze lingering on Lucifer. Then, she looked at Aziraphale and her smile seemed to  _ sharpen _ . In return, Aziraphale  _ refused _ to flinch and stared her down. 

“Hello Aziraphale,” Michael said, her grin almost shark-like. “I’m sure my firm will look forward to…  _ seeing _ you next Friday.” Her gaze focused on his shirt and slacks. He felt even more under-dressed, and he couldn’t help but  _ flush  _ with embarrassment. “I… do hope though.  _ If _ you are there, that perhaps you  _ dress _ for the occasion. This will be a  _ formal event _ not a…  _ live-stream.”  _

Aziraphale  _ froze.  _ His heart felt like it was going to burst - a  _ heat _ erupted from behind his ears, quickly encompassing his arms, chest, and stomach. He was going to be  _ sick.  _

Oh God. 

Michael _knew_. 

How did _Michael_ know? 

She had never said more than five words to him at a time when Aziraphale had dated Gabriel. He had had the impression that she never approved of him. When they ended things, Aziraphale assumed the rest of the firm had forgotten about him and moved on with their lives. But apparently not. She knew. She knew about his past, about the cam work, and if _she_ knew, that had to mean that _Gabriel_ knew. And how did they both know? Had they seen it? Had they _seen_ him? His breath was stuck in his throat, and he felt nauseous. Who _else_ knew? Could they use it _against_ him? Use it against his _boyfriend’s_ firm? Aziraphale struggled to take a deep breath, to move, to do _anything_ but he was rooted to the spot. As if he were frozen. 

Deciding the conversation was over, Michael turned on her heel and walked away. 

There was a sudden  _ movement _ , and Aziraphale found himself being half-led, half-dragged to a nearby bathroom. 

“Take deep breaths, come on angel look at me,” That was Crowley. That made him realize that he had been taking short, rapid breaths that were doing  _ nothing _ to get him oxygen. Distantly, it felt like he was hyperventilating. Maybe that’s what _was_ happening. 

“Come on,” Crowley encouraged, “Match my breathing, in through your nose, out with your mouth. There you go.” He was doing it. He was _good_ at listening to Crowley. He had done a really _good_ job of it last night. He could do that now. 

“There we go, that’s better,” Crowley soothed. His hands were rubbing Aziraphale’s arms, he realized. Aziraphale took careful, measured breaths, slowly calming down. 

Then the door  _ burst  _ open, and Hastur and Lucifer were dragging Ligur between them. 

“You  _ cannot  _ attack a female attorney in a courthouse,” Lucifer was urging. “I know, believe me, I understand the  _ urge _ with her.” 

“She’s a  _ monster _ ,” Ligur snarled, gripping his temples, struggling to calm down. “And she  _ provoked _ him. She  _ wanted  _ us to  _ do _ something.”

“That’s not grounds for a defensible physical altercation,” Aziraphale found himself saying, almost on autopilot. “I’ve never seen that defense hold up before.”

“Aziraphale’s right,” Crowley said, after casting another quick glance at him. “You can’t do that.” 

“And she’d sue, she would love the chance,” Aziraphale added, “I’m not worth it.”

“Stop talking,” Hastur snapped, because Aziraphale self-deprecating was the _last_ thing Ligur needed to hear if he was trying to calm down, “You are. But,” He looked back at his husband, “He’s right. Don’t go after her. You know the ramifications for  _ you _ are going worse than a lawsuit.” 

Ligur took a few breaths, and then nodded. “You’re right.  _ Fuck _ .” 

Aziraphale shuddered. “She knew about the cam work. Does that mean Gabriel knows?” He felt like he was going to be  _ sick _ . The idea of his ex seeing  _ any _ of his work made him feel ill. “Oh lord. I can’t - I can’t do that kind of work anymore.” 

“It’ll be fine,” Crowley said, “We’ll take it all down.”

“But this is the internet!” Aziraphale cried, “Everything lives forever! What can I even do now? They’ll have copies of everything, I  _ know _ it. And now she’ll go after you all _too_-I-” His words were cut off as Crowley pulled him close. Gently, Crowley shushed him, starting to rub his back. Aziraphale didn’t realize that he had started shaking again. 

“First off,” Hastur said, “It’s  _ 20-fucking-19 _ , you did something legal on a legal website, so as far as ‘holding it over you’ that’s  _ nothing _ . That channel was  _ your _ property, that snooty doctor back at the hospital told me so, even if they  _ did _ download anything that would mean they were  _ paid _ subscribers, or did it  _ illegally _ . If they used private funds, that can’t touch you professionally, they’re just trolls on the internet at that point. If they used public funds from their firm, that’s only going to make  _ them _ look bad.” 

“I used to be a personal trainer before I became a lawyer, and I taught gym classes” Lucifer said, “If I can overcome that, you can overcome anything.” 

Aziraphale gave a weak laugh at the terrible joke - so did the others. 

“See?” Crowley said, pressing a kiss to his hair. “We have this darling, don’t worry. We’ll take all the videos down now, and then we’ll go out like I promised we would. And, on Friday, if you want to go, we’ll all show up at that stupid cocktail reception and make Gabriel look like an  _ asshole.”  _

Aziraphale gave a sniffle, and smiled at him. 

“You’re right,” He said, looking at Crowley. “We’ll go to that ‘_stupid_’ party, socialize with some _random_ state attorney, and I’ll look _great_ to make Gabriel regret kicking me out.”

“That’s the spirit,” Crowley grinned. 

“Um,” Hastur piped up, “Aziraphale, do you know who the State District Attorney _is_?” 

“I don’t,” Aziraphale said, looking at Hastur, to Ligur, to Lucifer. All of them suddenly seemed interested in inspecting the walls, ceiling, or even the sinks. 

How odd. 

Aziraphale frowned. Why was Hastur now avoiding him? “Hastur. Hastur? _Hastur_. Who is the State District Attorney.”

“I was going to tell you tonight, at dinner,” Crowley said, narrowing his eyes at Hastur. In response, the other man gave him an unimpressed look. “But,” Crowley continued, looking back at him. “The State District Attorney… his name is… Anthony Jay Crowley,  _ Senior _ .” 

“_Oh_,” Aziraphale said, lightly. “_Oh_. So. That’s your father.” 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, worry seeping into his voice, “Are you okay?” 

“Mhm,” Aziraphale said, suddenly feeling very light-headed, “Just fine. It’s tickety-boo.” 

Before Crowley could ask what the fuck a  _ tickety-boo  _ was, Aziraphale fainted in his arms. 

\-----

Aziraphale was revived pretty quickly, promising that he would be okay after a few moments to collect his thoughts. He and Crowley went back home - and Crowley told Hastur to take the rest of the day off and he would drive. Hastur snickered at him, but went off with his husband and the rest of the firm to celebrate the win. 

Sitting in the front seat of the Bentley was an odd change for Aziraphale, but it was so  _ lovely  _ to watch Crowley drive. Although he  _ did  _ drive fast, and that  _ was _ a little scary. But he did hold Aziraphale’s hand for a little, which was nice. Crowley even brought his hand to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss to his fingers, and that was just so  _ gallant _ . The mood got ruined when he almost hit another car because of his _absurd_ speeding and Aziraphale yelled at him to  _ watch the road good lord Anthony,  _ and he tore his hand out of his to grip the armrest for dear life. 

Crowley laughed when he saw Aziraphale grip the armrest. "Too intense angel?" He teased.

"You go too fast for me Crowley," Aziraphale snapped. He just got a chuckle in response. 

Thankfully, there were no more near-accidents. They went back to the apartment, and Aziraphale deleted the channel. For a moment, he let his finger linger over the  _ ‘delete feed’ _ button, and took a moment to look at his own little channel. This was a heavy moment. For the last year and a half when his life had been so unstable,  _ this _ work on  _ this _ website had been the thing that kept him clothed, housed, and fed. Not  _ well _ , granted, but it had been a way that he could  _ live _ . 

“Angel?” Crowley was in the entrance to the office. Aziraphale had set his computer on Crowley’s desk, and was pitched forward on the throne to work. 

“It’s silly,” Aziraphale said, giving him a sad smile. “But… I’m scared.”

Crowley moved over, to sit on the arm of the chair and lean on him. “It’s not silly,” He said, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale’s temple. “This was something you built on your own, and it was popular.” He had watched as many of Aziraphale’s live streams as he could, and enjoyed every single one of them. “You’re very  _ very _ good at this. I  _ almost _ feel bad for your fans. They won’t get to see your lovely body anymore because it’s going to be  _ mine _ now.”

Aziraphale gave a snort. “ _ Yours _ ?” He asked. 

“ _ Well _ ,” Crowley drawled running a hand through Aziraphale's hair. He pushed into it, like a cat. The comparison made Crowley grin, and he ran his hand down his arm, “I  _ hope _ . I guess I’ll just have to give you enough  _ attention _ to compensate for your loss of fans. Will you let me?”

“Hm,” Aziraphale said, contemplatively, “Well, I guess that it will have to do. Think you’ll be up for it? It’s… it’s a lot of work.” 

Somewhere along the way his playful banter stopped sounding so playful. 

Crowley kissed the top of his head, and tilted his face up by his chin to give him another kiss. “I don’t mind it,” He promised, “And it wouldn’t. Be a lot for me, that is. Not if it’s you.” 

Aziraphale smiled up at him. “I believe in you.” 

“I’m glad,” Crowley said. “And we don’t have to delete the  _ videos _ , just because you’re taking the channel down.” 

It was true, in the end. Aziraphale deleted the channel - it being a very anticlimactic moment of clicking the ‘ _ delete account _ ’ button and everything just _disappeared_. And so ‘_Angel_’ was no more. Though, he did save the videos to a flash drive, in case he and Crowley ever wanted to  _ enjoy  _ them later. There were some  _ very _ good ones in there, that he was  _ proud _ of, shaming from Michael aside. Crowley pressed a kiss to his head once everything had finished downloading and everything was gone off the channel. 

“You ready to go back out?” Crowley asked, and Aziraphale nodded. They went down the elevator, and into the Bentley. “We only have a few days before my dad’s event,” Crowley said, leading Aziraphale back to the car. One hand was on the small of his back, and Aziraphale  _ enjoyed _ that. “So we’ll have to go somewhere that can help us work fast, and make you look as incredible as you always do.” 

“Can we eat somewhere?” Aziraphale asked, “I’m starving.” 

Crowley’s face twisted with the effort not to laugh. _ Of course _ . His angel was  _ too much _ . “I'll get us some food while you try on clothes. We'll eat there.”

Aziraphale blinked “What kind of place lets us eat while shopping?” 

\---

_ Four Horseman _ \- that was the name of the place they went. This was a high-end store that catered to an exclusive clientele, usually you needed an appointment far in advance to even be seen for a fitting. It was owned by a man named Azrael, who apparently went way back with Crowley’s father. Azrael  _ personally _ greeted Crowley and Aziraphale when they arrived, bringing them to a fitting room a ways away from the rest of the store and introducing them to one of his associates. 

They greeted Aziraphale and Crowley, introducing themself simply as “ _ Chalky _ ,” “Chosen name,” They said, and neither felt the need to press. Azrael told them that Chalky would see to them personally, and be responsible for their entire stay.

“What kind of suit are you looking for?” They asked, starting to take Aziraphale’s measurements. Crowley took the chance to circle them, idly glancing at the different materials around the store. In his mind Aziraphale knew enough about what looked good to probably have a better sense of clothing then he did, no he wanted to let Aziraphale take control of the appointment. 

“Dearest?” Aziraphale asked, alerting Crowley’s attention. 

“Yes, angel?” He asked. 

Aziraphale smiled at him. “What did you want?” 

Crowley’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“What should I try on? What do you think I should get?” It was, after-all, Crowley’s money. And when Gabriel used to get him clothing he was always  _ very _ specific in what he wanted Aziraphale to wear.

Though it seemed that Crowley didn’t understand, so Aziraphale decided to give him an example. “When Gabriel used to get clothing with me, he always wanted me to stick to black because it would make me look slimmer.” 

Oh - that made Crowley angry. Aziraphale shifted guiltily at how upset his boyfriend looked. He seemed very angry did Aziraphale make a  _ mistake- _

Wait. Aziraphale knew this one. “Are you mad because he shouldn’t have done that?”

“That is correct,” Crowley replied, pressing his fingers to his temples. “That was rude of him. I want you to have something that  _ you  _ want, and  _ you enjoy.  _ If that means black, that means black. If it means  _ orange,  _ then get fucking  _ orange.” _

Aziraphale blushed at Crowley’s words. “Don’t do orange,” Chalky said quickly, and Aziraphale laughed. 

“No, no orange, I promise,” He said to Chalky, “What do  _ you _ think would look good?”

They grinned. “What I like,” They said, “Is to experiment with as many different fabrics as possible for a good fit.” 

“That makes sense,” Aziraphale agreed, “Why don’t you show us some choices?” 

“I’ll be back,” Crowley promised, pulling his phone out, “Let me take care of lunch.” 

\-----

First they looked at suits. They were  _ lovely.  _ Aziraphale had forgotten how it felt to really  _ wear _ one. The first one they put him in was a navy blue. When he tried it on, Aziraphale enjoyed the way that the blue deepened his eyes. He took a moment to _admire_ himself in the mirror before stepping out to see what Crowley thought. He was on his phone, distracted, ordering lunch. Aziraphale had cleared his throat, and Crowley looked up at him - and then took a second look and just  _ stared _ . 

“_Ngk_,” Was his response. 

Aziraphale gave a shy smile, but on the inside he was  _ jumping _ with joy. Usually Crowley was so smooth, so _suave_ \- and Aziraphale _loved_ it! But it was nice to know that he could fluster Crowley just as much as his love usually flustered him. 

“Do you like it?” Aziraphale asked, looking up at Crowley through his eyelashes. Crowley seemed to stammer a reply - looking unable to make a thought happen, yet very, very clearly wanting to tell him how much he liked it. 

Aziraphale was going to have fun today.

“ _ Oh _ !" He fretted, pretending to look distraught, “It’s  _ awful _ , isn’t it?” 

“_No_!” Crowley leapt to his feet, and stood in front of him. “Angel - no - this is just - I mean. Wow.” 

He struggled to find the right words to convey just how he felt. All that was left was to make unintelligible noises. 

Aziraphale couldn’t take it anymore. He laughed. “Oh, my dear,” He went on his tip-toes to place a kiss to Crowley's cheek. “I know. I’m just enjoying myself.”

Crowley tried to look offended, but he was amused. It was nice to see Aziraphale growing more and more comfortable - this was that confident version of himself Aziraphale liked to show when they had first started spending time together. But that had been an act of what Aziraphale  _ thought  _ Crowley wanted. This time, Aziraphale was being a more genuine, more  _ confident  _ version of himself because he felt comfortable and  _ safe _ with Crowley. It was so much more of a turn-on to see Aziraphale being  _ himself.  _

“I put you in one nice suit and you become a brat?” He teased. Crowley’s hands brushed along his shoulders and upper arms appreciatively. “This is a  _ very _ good pick. It’ll impress everyone at that party for certain.” 

“I can recommend a few more based on this,” Chalky suggested, and Crowley nodded absentmindedly. 

“We’ll take this, can you get it fitted quickly?” He asked. Chalky grinned - no doubt pleased off the commission of this suit alone. “Of course sir.” 

Aziraphale leaned up to give him a kiss that Crowley grinned into. 

“Let them take your measurements to get it fitted,” Crowley said, going back to take a seat. “I’m thinking pizza for lunch?” 

“Pizza sounds wonderful,” Aziraphale agreed. 

\-----

It was a  _ lovely _ afternoon. Aziraphale had never tried on so many nice suits before, and found that he rather enjoyed the whole experience. It also helped that he got to enjoy this with  _ Crowley _ . Crowley was  _ fun _ to shop with - Aziraphale got to pretend to be a model, coming out in different outfits that were put together for him by their associate. 

He would  _ pose _ and  _ strut _ , always dramatically, and Crowley would pretend to leer, and then give his opinion. Crowley always gave an honest opinion, usually criticizing the clothing- but never  _ Aziraphale _ . It was nice. They ended up taking two others, one a light gray and the other a soft black - Aziraphale came out in a tweed suit that Crowley had  _ hissed  _ at. Which Aziraphale knew he would hate, but the reaction had been worth it and he laughed. 

Chalky prepared the suits, ordering the correct measurements, and offered to show them some clothes that could work for a ‘business professional’ setting - collared shirts, pants, and more casually professional options. Aziraphale had few choices in clothing if he wanted to visit Crowley’s office everyday. His colleagues were too nice to point out the fact that he kept wearing the same few things everyday, but it couldn’t go on forever - the clothes themselves would fall apart. 

So while Chalky began putting together some options, the pizza arrived and Crowley convinced him to take a break. Aziraphale had  _ never  _ eaten lunch in an upscale fitting room before. 

“It’s just like that moment in  _ Pretty Woman,”  _ Crowley grinned, holding a slice up for Aziraphale to take a bite out of. Aziraphale leaned in to take the bite, blushing at being hand fed in a public place. Granted, they were the only people in that corner of the store, but still. It seemed _decadent_. 

“What's that?” Aziraphale asked, taking the rest of the slice to finish it. 

“You know,  _ Pretty Woman _ ? Came out over twenty years ago? Ngk- It’s a _classic_!” Crowley raised his eyebrows. He thought everyone knew! 

Aziraphale smirked at him in between bites. “Came out  _ over _ twenty years ago? You mean, before I was born?” 

Crowley let out a sharp laugh. That was right. “ _ Shit _ , I keep forgetting how young you are. It's because your vocabulary is better than half the office.” 

“You’re right,” Aziraphale agreed - he had hung around the office enough to know that. “And I didn’t like watching movies really - they were too blurry and gave me headaches. But I don’t think I’ll find that true anymore now with glasses.” 

“I’ll show it to you sometime,” Crowley grinned. “Along with… good lord. Every classic movie then.” 

After they finished, Chalky brought out the next batch of clothing, which is where the afternoon went from  _ lovely _ to  _ interesting _ . It turned out that Aziraphale and Crowley had two  _ very _ different takes on fashion. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, “I love you. And I will support you. With everything that I have. But. If we can look at patterns that aren’t  _ tartan-”  _

To Crowley’s emerging  _ horror _ Aziraphale started to drift to nice shirts that - in his opinion - were  _ ruined  _ by tartan accents. There was one navy shirt with a collar, but the collar and lining on the sleeves were  _ tartan _ . Or the bow ties would be tartan. Or the pocket squares. Most of those were  _ also  _ tartan. But he had already made a whole case of telling Aziraphale that he could pick what he wanted, and he was determined to stick with it. Afterall, maybe it would help him look a little older and contrast Aziraphale's glasses and face making him look too young. 

"I  _ like _ this pattern!" Aziraphale protested, "And this is a different,  _ timeless _ kind of style.”

“That's because it’s a style that belongs to  _ no  _ time!” Crowley cried. 

Aziraphale tutted at him. “My  _ father _ used to wear tartan to work, and I always thought to myself, that’s what an adult who works and goes to work and has a  _ purpose _ wears. And that when  _ I _ grew up, and I knew what I wanted to do and I went to work and did my job I would  _ also  _ wear what he did because then I could be like him.” That bittersweet feeling came back, nipping him square in the heart. Aziraphale didn’t really talk about his parents. Gabriel had never liked it, and when he was living alone, he didn’t want the thoughts to creep up on him in that cell of an apartment. But now, with someone he loved very much, it felt like a balm - a light balm - to share some moments. 

“I don’t know what I want to do. Well. I’ve been thinking about some ideas. Ideas I’m not ready to talk through yet. But  _ maybe _ ,” He wiped at his eyes a bit. Not because he was crying, but just to fidget. “Maybe if I could channel how driven he was I could get a little of his courage.” 

Well. Well shit. Crowley felt like an asshole. “Angel,” He said, “I - I am so sorry.”

“Oh darling don’t be!” Aziraphale said quickly. He gave Crowley a kiss. “No, I haven’t gotten to talk about them in a long time, so this is really quite helpful to share memories like this. And you’re right, this isn’t conventionally stylish. But I spent a long time dressing and looking a specific way to attract attention, first for Gabriel, and then to gain followers, and I think it’ll be nice to develop my own style that won’t do that.” 

Crowley smiled up at him, and pulled him close by the waist. “Then thank you for telling me,” He said, and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s chest. “Get as much tartan as you like.” 

Though, thankfully, Aziraphale had decided to stop very shortly after that. All told, it was a very productive shopping trip. 

\-----

Everyone from the firm went to the party that weekend. Crowley took them both, so Hastur and Ligur could arrive together. 

“I’m glad to have familiar faces there,” Aziraphale confided in Crowley. He was wearing that first suit that Crowley had been so dazed to see him in. The attorney was dressed in a black suit, and he’d delighted in the way Aziraphale’s eyes had  _ flashed  _ to see him in it. They would have a good time later, when they were back at their apartment (and Crowley had taken to thinking of it as  _ theirs _ , even if he hadn't had that conversation yet), no matter what happened at this event. 

What Crowley did not say was that usually the rest of the firm did not like going to these events. Usually, famously, they drew straws and whoever got the short end would have to go. Before Crowley had started dating Aziraphale, he and Lucifer traded off most frequently. Crowley because this was his father and he’d grown up in this light, and knew how to handle it. Lucifer because his wife was impressive enough to hold a room on her own, and she was always good at handling herself better then any of them. But in light of the last few weeks, and knowing what this meant to Aziraphale, the entire firm had decided to go and close ranks tonight in support. But Crowley felt it better he not share that full detail just yet, it may overwhelm him. 

“This will be a pseudo fundraiser,” He chose to explain instead. For the past week they had gone over flashcards to study the different faces to names, so Aziraphale would know just who to expect at the event. “Several firms are going to be there tonight. Some reporters, investment bankers, I think a property manager? I can’t keep track of who my dad knows anymore.” 

“Is this where you grew up?” Aziraphale asked. They were in the lobby of his father’s building, stepping into an elevator to go up to Crowley Senior’s penthouse apartment. The building reminded Aziraphale of his love’s - they seemed to have similar taste.

Crowley shook his head. “He moved here after I moved out to college. I grew up outside the city, boring suburb, total cliche. Dad was away a lot to work and build up his career. Mostly I was with mom until she got sick.”

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale gave him a kiss, “I’m so sorry. That’s what happened to my mother too.” 

“What about your dad?” Crowley asked, shaking his head to clear himself. It had been a long time, nearly ten years now, but no amount of time was the  _ right time.  _ But it _did_ bring him closer to his dad, and their relationship was in a much better place then it was when he had been a teenager. Which was good, because he had told his dad about Aziraphale a few days ago. Considering they had been together for six months, and Aziraphale was all but living with him (hopefully permanently), it was about time for them to meet. And his dad was impressed by Aziraphale being able to help him, and was eager to meet him. 

“After mom passed away,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley pressed a kiss to his hair. “Dad just… couldn’t keep going. He passed away within months of her. It was a broken heart, people said.” 

It had been _horrible_. “I’m so sorry,” Crowley said, pressing another kiss. 

“It’s alright,” Aziraphale said, “And I’m not just saying that anymore. I really do feel that now, because I can process it. And that’s because of  _ you _ .”

There wasn’t much to say, so Crowley replied, “_Ngk_.” 

They went into the elevator together, and it accelerated quickly to the top floor. Crowley kept an arm around Aziraphale, who was glad for it. “Please don’t leave me,” He begged. He was feeling so  _ nervous  _ for tonight.

“Promise I won’t,” was Crowley’s answer. 

The elevator  _ dinged  _ as they reached the top floor, and the doors slid open. 

People were already there, milling about and socializing. From the flashcards, Aziraphale recognized several faces as local elected officials. Crowley squeezed his arm comfortingly, and they moved in. 

“Let’s get some wine,” He said, “My dad always has a good red at this stuff.” 

“How will I know which one your father is?” Aziraphale wondered. 

“Because he’ll be the one that looks like your beau in twenty years,” a wonderfully  _ familiar _ voice chimed in. 

“Hastur!” Aziraphale whirled around to greet the driver - his _friend_ \- with a hug. Hastur returned the hug, letting a genuine grin steal across his face. 

"Hey 'zira," He said, ignoring the protest of, "_That's not my name_," Aziraphale answered. Instead, he made a show of making Aziraphale turn around to inspect the suit. "Very nice, you _almost_ look old enough to drink." 

Aziraphale grinned and gave a little giggle while Crowley rolled his eyes. "I can have you fired," He said. 

"Oh heavens no," Aziraphale protested, "That would mean _you_ would be  _ driving!"  _

Ligur and Hastur both roared with laughter. A few people looked over at the raised volume and Crowley narrowed his eyes at Aziraphale. 

"You heard the kid," Ligur snickered, "Hastur stays."

"Maybe you could teach me how to drive," Aziraphale half-suggested, half-asked Hastur. "I never got to learn. Once I tried to get a permit but i could never pass the vision test." 

"Wonder why." Hastur deadpanned. 

Ligur quickly tracked down some wine, and actually _paused_ before handing Aziraphale a glass. Hastur snickered. 

"I am twenty-two!" Aziraphale protested, glaring. 

"Fucking hell," Ligur muttered, handing it to him. "I feel like I need to card you." 

Crowley narrowed his eyes at the paralegal, but Ligur ignored him. 

"Hey everyone," they turned in time to see Lucifer, Beelzebub, Dagon, and a woman Aziraphale didn't recognize approach. 

"Hey Luce," Hastur said, shaking his hand. Lucifer grinned, wrapping an arm around the unknown woman. Aziraphale's eyes widened. She looked like a  _ goddess _ . 

"Aziraphale, you haven't met my wife yet. This is Lilith, Lilith this is Aziraphale." 

Aziraphale made to hold his hand out, but Lilith brought him into a hug. She was so  _ tall _ , and wore heels, meaning Aziraphale had to carefully turn his head and close his eyes. He ignored the snickering from the rest of the firm. 

"Thank you Aziraphale," Lilith said, smiling down at him. "My husband has been so stressed the last few weeks, and you helped relieve him."

"It was nothing," Aziraphale said when she finally let go. "Just some reading."

"Well keep reading," She urged, still holding his shoulders. Lilith gently brushed some curls behind his ear, and Aziraphale smiled up at her. 

_ "Still a bookworm, then?"  _

It snuck up on all of them, and Aziraphale went  _ rigid.  _ It was Gabriel. 

"Hello Gabriel." Aziraphale forced himself to say. "I'm glad to see you."

Hastur decided at that moment Aziraphale really  _ was  _ an angel for not just punching him in the face,  _ and  _ being able to convincingly lie. He was very carefully restraining himself, and he wasn't alone. Even Lilith's eyes were narrowed. 

"Didn't expect to see you," Gabriel said, with a false smile.

He was dressed in a light gray suit, and bracketed by Michael and Sandalphon, a junior partner. They all wore different shades of a cream suit, almost looking as if they had  _ coordinated _ for this. 

Crowley reached to grab his hand, and Aziraphale squeezed it, tightly. Michael gave a _snort_. 

"Just as I told you," She said, "He decided to fall into our rival's arms."

Gabriel tutted, as if Aziraphale had _disappointed_ him. 

"Looks like you hardly even missed a beat," Sandalphon observed, and Aziraphale repressed a shudder. He had always felt so ill-at-ease whenever he was with the other lawyer. Gabriel liked him, so Sandalphon had _always_ come over, but whenever Gabriel wasn't in the room Aziraphale always felt so uncomfortable whenever Sandalphon would  _ look  _ at him. It was like he was being  _ judged  _ for something. 

"Then why make those little videos?" Gabriel asked, and that  _ did _ crack Aziraphale's stony expression. So he  _ had known.  _

Gabriel sneered when he saw Aziraphale's face change. 

"Oh yes, we know about that," He said. 

"Very embarrassing for us, especially Gabriel." Sandalphon said, but his eyes flashed with  _ lust  _ and also  _ regret,  _ and Aziraphale really did feel like he was going to be sick. 

He had always suspected that Sandalphon  _ wanted  _ him, but out of a loyalty to Gabriel he never tried anything with him. Aziraphale had been grateful. 

"I wonder if your father knows, Crowley," Michael said, giving a little grin, and Ligur _growled_. Aziraphale's heart beat _furiously_. This was his nightmare coming true. 

"Stop talking about him like that," Crowley snarled. Hastur glared at Sandalphon- he caught the earlier gaze as well. 

"You can't do anything about it," Hastur snarled. 

"I won't have to," Gabriel corrected, "Because it's time for you to come home now, Aziraphale."

They all stopped. 

" _ What?"  _ Crowley asked. At the same time Lucifer said, "Are you fucking serious?" 

"No need for such  _ language  _ Luce," Michael said in a sickly-sweet voice. 

" _ Don't _ call him that," Lilith hissed, and Michael sneered at her. 

Aziraphale hadn't seemed to hear him, and turned to Crowley, "Maybe we should leave," he suggested. 

"We don't need to go anywhere Aziraphale," Beelzebub said, "They do."

"They have cases to lose," Hastur agreed, "Move along now."

Ligur, Lilith, and Lucifer all laughed, and even Crowley gave that line a grin. Aziraphale didn't, his heart _seized_ because he knew that would make Gabriel angry. 

And it  _ did _ . His face flashed with anger, and Aziraphale took a step back in fear. It made him step back to Crowley, who gently placed his hands on his shoulders. That made Aziraphale take a deep breath with relief. He wasn't with _him_. He was with _Anthony Jay Crowley_. 

“Alright kid,” Gabriel said, and Aziraphale  _ glared. _

“I am  _ not _ a child,” He snapped. 

“Then don’t act like one!” Gabriel retorted, “It’s time for you to come home and stop this little tantrum.”

Aziraphale’s blood went cold. “Come home?” He repeated, feeling his vision go red, “You kicked me out!” 

“I wanted you to sit in being wrong. To really stew in the mistake you made,” Gabriel snapped, “You should have known to come back the next day.” 

The next day? 

"You could have come to me, and stayed the night," Sandalphon said in his smarmy little voice, "I had even given you my number, remember?"

"Fuck that," Beelzebub said on instinct. 

"You even left your phone behind," Gabriel tutted, like this was all Aziraphale's fault somehow. "I didn't even have a way to send someone to go out and look for you when I needed you."

"Send someone to get him? To find him when you needed him?" Hastur snapped, "He's not a toy!" 

Aziraphale huffed a laugh. It was not genuine. It was incredulous. “I can’t believe I wasted three years on you!” He cried, speaking up for the first time. “I gave up pursuing an education, a career - for  _ you?  _ It’s inconceivable!” 

After a moment's silence, Ligur hissed, “Does he know the reference-”

“No of course he doesn’t,” Hastur replied. He strained against the grip Ligur had on him - it was all either of them could do to not go on the offensive and deck the asshole. They had to let Aziraphale handle this now. 

“ _ You ungrateful brat _ ,” Gabriel snarled. Aziraphale glared back. He even took a step forward, and Crowley's hands fell away. He trusted Aziraphale to handle this. 

It struck Aziraphale just how very different Crowley and Gabriel were. When Crowley would say _brat_, it was with such a level of love, delight, and fondness that it made Aziraphale want to anything he could to  _ keep  _ receiving such a nickname. Hearing it from Gabriel? It was meant to be an insult. And Gabriel had always made little demeaning comments about his age. His ex was determined to put him down - and had been putting him down - for being younger for much of their time together. Which was such bullshit, because Gabriel had made the choice to pursue him when he did. 

And Gabriel had always had others send to bring Aziraphale places, which was _different_ from Crowley as well. Crowley would have Hastur pick him up in such a way to time when he would finish work, to make the most out of their time together. And he was always so reluctant for Aziraphale to leave. Gabriel had always demanded everything to be on  _ Gabriel's _ schedule, and had taken Aziraphale for granted. He only wanted Aziraphale near when it worked for him. Rarely had they even texted! And never about Aziraphale's day. Crowley had always wanted to know about him and his day, Gabriel had never cared.

“You  _ are _ a  _ child,”  _ Gabriel said haughtily, “After I did to take care of you for three years? I kept  _ everything _ for you, and I looked after you, and you got  _ petulant _ and couldn’t handle  _ punishment _ . This ends now. You’re coming downstairs with me, we are going home, and I'll _teach_ you not to _disobey_.” 

Rather then scream, and rage, and shout, Aziraphale realized what he needed to do. Gabriel cared about visibility. About status. About looking like the most competent person in the room. He wanted Aziraphale to lose control, to cry. It would only solidify and confirm Gabriel’s point that Aziraphale was an immature child who needed a  _ firm hand.  _

But he wasn’t going to play that game. 

So Aziraphale did the opposite of what Gabriel wanted. 

He smiled. 

That made Gabriel pause. 

“I think,” Aziraphale said, “That maybe you have a point. I can be rather immature. And childish. I really should be  _ thanking _ you for the three years we had together.”

Gabriel blinked at him. Even Beelzebub whispered, "What the fuck?" 

“I learned so much from you!” Aziraphale continued, “I am so lucky that you could teach me so much. _About. Each. And. Every. One. Of. Your. Cases.” _

The attorney started to pale, and Aziraphale pressed on, gleefully. “You were so  _ convincing  _ that I shouldn’t go to community college, that it wasn’t possibly good enough for you, so I could learn how to look after your home!” Aziraphale reminded him, now relishing in the fact that people were staring at them. And several of these elected officials overheard, which was  _ perfect.  _ Aziraphale had, of _course_, looked them up, and so many of them supported building up their local community colleges and providing affordable education. Gabriel would have to walk that position back for a lot of them. 

"And," Aziraphale continued, really wanting to drive his other point home, "I guess you believed I should learn in a different way. That’s why you shared  _ everything _ with me, right?” 

“I’m glad you did.” Crowley spoke up, finally. He handed Aziraphale another glass of wine, and Aziraphale was quick to give thanks and take a _long_ sip. “We actually owe our most recent win to  _ you _ , Gabriel.” 

“ _ And _ a journalist got to walk free,” Aziraphale said, “I know how much you like protecting reporters,  _ dearest.”  _

Gabriel glared at them both. 

“Yeah, Aziraphale told me all about that,” Crowley grinned. “Real helpful tip there  _ sunshine.  _ I’m pretty sure this isn’t going to be the last time you see us both working together. I look forward to going up against _Archangel & Heaven_ in the future.” 

" _ What?"  _ Michael hissed. She clearly hadn't known about  _ that. _

"What is he talking about?" Sandalphon asked, and Gabriel waved him off. 

"Everyone," a new voice rang out. Everyone paused. A new man approached, and Aziraphale did not need an introduction. Hastur really hadn't been kidding. 

Crowley Senior really  _ did _ look like his son. Same bright red hair, same gold eyes. Same build, same height. Same imposing nature that made Aziraphale take  _ notice. _

"I think everyone here has heard enough," The host said, and Aziraphale flushed with embarrassment. This was what he had been so worried about. 

Then he turned to Gabriel, Michael, and Sandalphon. "I think the three of you have antagonized this group enough," he said. 

If looks could kill, Michael's eyes would have done the trick. "You're not serious." She deadpanned. 

"Certainly," Crowley Senior replied. "You are disturbing my guests." 

Gabriel glowered at him. "Let's go," he said, giving Aziraphale a glare. 

Hastur sneered as they shuffled past him. Subtly, he positioned himself in front of Aziraphale, as if daring them to go anywhere near them. 

Aziraphale tried to shuffle himself back, to hide away, but Crowley stopped him.

His father turned to them all. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize they had approached you all."

"You didn't have to do that," Aziraphale said fretfully, "Sir. I apologize for that scene." 

Before Crowley could cut in, his dad started to speak. "You must be Aziraphale-"

"This wasn't his fault," Hastur spoke up, still standing halfway in front of Aziraphale, "They antagonized him sir." 

It was so  _ weird _ to see Hastur call a man that looked just like Crowley  _ sir _ , but this wasn't the time to laugh. 

"He's right," Lilith said, but Crowley Senior silenced them both. 

"You are Aziraphale," The district attorney repeated, keeping his gaze on Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale steeled himself, and looked him in the eye. "Yes," He answered. 

"So _you're_ the one my son is in love with," ignoring the sputtering noises from his son, he continued, "The one who helped this firm with their most recent case? Who gave himself quite the informal education with poor eyesight?" 

"Among other things," Aziraphale said, swallowing.

To his surprise, the man's face broke into a smile. "It's lovely to meet you Aziraphale. My friends call me AJ, feel free to do the same." 

A wave of relief, a dizzying wave of relief, overcame Aziraphale. He _wasn't_ mad. That was the same joyous smile that his Crowley would give him, seeing it on his father was both confusing and so wonderful. There was a gentle  _ squeeze _ from behind, and it was his Crowley, giving him a reassuring smile that didn't even give a  _ hint _ of an 'I told you so'. 

"You get to call him AJ  _ already?" _ Anathema asked. She and Newt joined them, having arrived just in time to see their rival firm leave. "It took us  _ months _ to get there."

"It isn't a competition," Lilith chided, and Anathema's face ducked in embarrassment. 

"Not one we can win anyway," Lucifer muttered, and his wife gave him a little smirk. 

"Isn't 'AJ' a little… informal?" Aziraphale asked him. 

Beelzebub wanted to laugh. Getting the rights to say 'AJ' was a big deal - how was Aziraphale not understanding that? 

"It's something I've done for most of my life," AJ said, "Because  _ my _ father was 'Anthony Jay Crowley', and I wanted to have my _own_ name."

"He also made a name for himself in family law," his Crowley helped explain, "'AJ' was a name kids could work with."

With his son speaking up, AJ turned to him. "You should have found me the moment you came here, I've been looking forward to meeting him," AJ scolded. 

"Ngk," Was his loves response, and Aziraphale smiled at Crowley. 

It turned out that AJ was friendly, charismatic, and easy enough to speak with. He couldn't stay long with them - he had to make the rounds with all his guests - but did tell Crowley that he expected his son to make plans with him so he could have breakfast with his son and his son's  _ bright young man _ . The rest of the firm did a poor job of biting back laughs at the way both Aziraphale  _ and _ Crowley got flustered. 

So they spent the rest of the party with the firm, which Aziraphale  _ loved. _ Though Ligur refused to let him get a third glass of wine, which was ridiculous, and Aziraphale felt comfortable enough to tell him so with a  _ pout. _

"Told you his dad would like you," Hastur teased, as Ligur gave in and handed him the third glass. 

"Thank you Ligur," Aziraphale said, taking the glass with his good hand. He waved with his casted hand, trying to aim for nonchalance. He failed. "Yes, yes, you were right. You're always right is that what I'm supposed to say?" 

From a few feet away, Crowley approached his father. 

"You kicked out those bastards," He said in a low voice. "And I'm glad. Really. But how much did that cost you?" 

AJ made a show of grinning and taking a sip of his wine, but answered in a low voice. "Couple thousand - they were going to get me most of my Ad buys. Airtime is just more expensive to purchase than ever." 

"You know, millennials are making up a majority of the population of this district," Crowley said, "Most of them don't use cable. Get kids to help you with social media. And go to  _ Tadfield Times. _ We just saved their paper, they'll probably want to help you out."

AJ gave him an appraising look. "Look at you," he said approvingly, "That was some  _ good  _ advice."

"Shut it," Crowley snapped, "I'm not  _ good." _

His dad laughed. "You are. That Aziraphale is good for you. You look a little softer, more at ease." 

"_He's_ the good one," Crowley let his gaze focus on Aziraphale. Lilith was in the middle of telling him a story, presumably how she and Lucifer met, given the way her husband was staring at her adoringly. Even Aziraphale was looking up at her, his eyes shining. He  _ loved _ hearing about love. 

His dad laughed again. "You're staring. Oh man you do have it bad."

Crowley was thirty years old. He was a partner attorney at a successful law firm. But there was nothing like parental teasing to make him revert back to his sullen teenage years. " _ Dad _ ," he groaned, " _ Stop it." _

"Just let me know when I should expect the engagement announcement," AJ grinned, and left before his petulant son could complain more. 

\----

Crowley was frowning. Pre-Aziraphale, this was something that Ligur was used to. Crowley had been short-tempered, easily irritable, and let himself get overworked easily. But  _ with _ Aziraphale, he was balanced and happy. Only glowered and glared when one of them intentionally messed with or annoyed him, which was often enough. 

"Something wrong?" Ligur asked. To his knowledge, none of them had been messing with him. It was Monday, days since that party at his dad's place. He would have thought that getting to tell those stuffy lawyers off and then spend the day with his boyfriend would have him in a  _ good _ mood. "Did you pick a fight with your sugar baby?"

"No," Crowley snapped, "And stop saying that. You make it sound like you don't like him."

"Don't be stupid," Ligur scoffed. "Hastur googled  _ 'Can you adopt a twenty-two year old' _ last night, and I  _ read the results. _ " 

Crowley huffed a laugh, and rubbed his face. "Sorry. I feel on edge. There was something Gabriel said last night at that party."

"He said a lot of crap at that party." Ligur reminded him.

"Yeah, I know. But he said this line, '_I kept everything for you_,' but Aziraphale said Gabriel was a minimalist. And he seemed  _ adamant  _ that Aziraphale go back with him but didn't seem to  _ want  _ him like I do." 

Ligur took a moment to really take in what Crowley was telling him, thinking back on the conversation at the party. "You think he has something of Aziraphale's?" He asked. 

"I think so," Crowley said, nodding. "I think there's something Aziraphale has that Gabriel wants. And he would have used the  _ channel _ to bargain for it if Aziraphale hadn't deleted it."

For a moment, Ligur took and released a breath. He refused to get angry. Refused. "So what do you think we do?" 

Crowley took his phone out to send a text. "I think Hastur should give us a ride." 

\----

Gabriel’s building was ostentatious and ridiculous. Crowley, Ligur, Hastur, and Beelzebub shouldered their way in, coming face to face with a doorman. 

"Can I help you?" He asked, looking down on them with disdain. 

Crowley drew himself up to his full height, narrowing his eyes at the man. "We are here to see Gabriel, you can tell him we have something he needs." 

The man gave them all suspicious looks, but stepped aside to relay the message. Somehow, to their surprise, they were allowed up. It was Ligur's idea to lie - to tell him they were going to give him a tip about Aziraphale. It made Crowley sick to say it, but it worked. 

They were let up, and the four of them rode in the elevator in silence. 

"Look for what you think may be Aziraphale's," Crowley reminded them. 

"We know," Beelzebub sighed. 

"Someone should mess with the apartment," Hastur mused. 

Crowley grinned. "Leave it to me." 

The doors dinged and they stepped out, not letting themselves get swept up in the grandeur of his penthouse. The brightness. The empty spaces. The marble columns - which just seemed ridiculous. Which was good, because they were face to face with the man himself. 

“What are you doing here?" Gabriel snapped, glaring at the four of them. "You have some nerve-"

"Shut the fuck up." Ligur snarled. 

"You listen to us now," Hastur snapped.

"We have reason," Crowley said, glaring, "To think that you are holding items in your possession that don't belong to you. After your  _ embarrassment _ the other day, do you really think the firm can handle us coming back with the police and a warrant?" 

"You're going to turn over what you have that belongs to Aziraphale," Beelzebub said, "Or we're going to go through everything and do it ourselves."

"You won't like that," Hastur sneered, "I'm very clumsy. Known to  _ break _ stuff."

For a moment, Crowley could swear that steam was coming out of Gabriel's ears. "I don't have to give you  _ anything,"  _ he snarled, but they knew the threat of  _ police _ was something they got him on. 

"Have it your way," Ligur grabbed Hastur's arm, and they walked off. 

"Where are you going?" Gabriel called after them, torn between chasing them down and standing firm in front of Crowley and Beelzebub. 

"Don't mind them," Beelzebub said, "Look at me. Tell me where his documents are. Holding his mail or opening it is a federal offense. Not a good look for a lawyer." 

The two glared at each other for a long moment. Crowley took that as an opportunity to slink off and wreak a little havoc of his own. 

It was good to let out a little _aggression_. 

\---

Aziraphale liked to think himself adaptable, able to roll with any situation. Given what the past year and a half had been, that attitude was  _ necessary.  _ But he liked to think that he was still allowed to be started to see Lilith and Lucifer coming in through the front door. 

"Hope you don't mind, Crowley had an urgent errand to run. He wanted us to let you know. I realized I didn't have your number, so Lilith suggested we just come visit and bring food for you," Lucifer explained. He and Lilith were there, and Lucifer was carrying bags from a grocery store, heading to the kitchen. 

"Well, welcome!" Aziraphale said, rushing to the kitchen. He had been reading one of Crowley's old textbooks, and researching programs on his computer in the office. He hadn't even  _ thought  _ about dinner, because Crowley had texted he was running late and was offering to pick something up. "I am sorry I didn't greet you, were you supposed to come over?"

"Oh, definitely not." Lilith said. Lucifer was holding all the bags, leaving her to greet him with a hug. "Crowley did not expect us to do this. But we didn't want you here _alone_ while he was off gallivanting about."

"Crowley's been bragging about your cooking, Lilith wanted to see what it was all about," Lucifer grinned. "So we figured we would stop by." 

Aziraphale blinked. He wasn't used to people coming to see  _ him. _ It was… nice. And these were such  _ important _ people! To give him the time of day? How lovely. He grinned. 

"I cannot believe he makes you cook when you have that cast," Lilith said, looking angry. It wasn't directed at  _ him _ but Aziraphale still felt nervous to see her mad. 

"It's nothing, I rather like to cook," He tried to say, but neither of them was listening to him. They were pulling out food, putting things away, and moving about the kitchen as if they knew where everything was.

"I designed this kitchen," Lilith said fondly, "I'm at least glad it's getting used by someone worthy of it. Now," She looked at him expectantly, and Aziraphale's face  _ flushed  _ with the intensity of her focus. "What do you cook that has him obsessed?"

Aziraphale swallowed, and straightened his back. Then he grinned. "I'll show you, if you wouldn't mind helping?"

Lilith grinned. "Of course, my dear."

"I'll put on  _ Cut Throat Kitchen _ ," Lucifer offered, and they both snickered. 

\------

"Fucking hell," Hastur breathed. The four of them were in the Bentley,  _ finally _ pulling into Crowley's garage _hours_ after their little excursion. 

"No kidding." Ligur said. 

"I think we got everything," Beelzebub said. They each had a box of items from Gabriel's place, but only time would tell if they had anything useful there. 

"Only one way to find out," Crowley muttered. He was starting to feel  _ nervous _ . It had seemed like a good idea at the time, like something a hero would do for their great love, like the kind of romantic gesture Aziraphale would appreciate. But what if he was wrong? What if he had overstepped? What if Aziraphale had wanted to handle this on his own? 

The thoughts built up, but Crowley tried not to let it get to him. If Aziraphale was upset, they would work through it. But then they got to the top floor, and the four of them were dumbfounded. 

"Oh, hello," Lucifer greeted, "Fancy seeing the four of you here."

"Where I  _ live?"  _ Crowley was incredulous. "What the fuck are you  _ doing here?"  _

"Hello dearest!" Aziraphale came out. He was wearing an apron, but still seemed to have flecks of flower on his cheeks and hair. "Lilith and Lucifer came over to help me cook. It's good you brought your friends, we made a lot." 

" _ His _ friends?" Ligur snorted. "I don't get your things because I'm  _ Crowley's _ friend." 

Aziraphale blinked at him. That was when he took a step back and noticed that each of them was holding a box. “What is that?” 

“Special delivery,” Beelzebub moved passed them, setting it down on the coffee table. Lucifer went to mute the television and let Lilith know about their guests. 

“Those look familiar,” Aziraphale said, moving over to inspect what they were setting down. Suspicion lined his face. The color scheme matched the theme in Gabriel's apartment. But that was absurd, wasn't it?

“They should,” Hastur said, his tone surprisingly gentle, “They’re yours.” 

"Mine?" Aziraphale repeated. He was confused, which made sense. At this moment, most of his worldly possessions are very neatly folded in a drawer that Crowley had forced him to start using. The nicer items that Crowley got for him the other day; waistcoats, dress shirts, casual suits, and the fancier suits, are hung up in their closet, but it’s still  _ mostly _ Crowley’s things in there. In their bathroom, Aziraphale’s make-up and other products encompass one of the sinks, but that’s it. Even after this time. For him to now suddenly have  _ four  _ additional boxes is not inconsequential. 

“What do you mean, mine?” 

The three exchange a look. Finally, Crowley decided to come clean. “We thought about what Gabriel said to you, about keeping things for you, and it made me think. You said he kicked you out, but it wouldn’t be like him to throw  _ everything _ away.”

A light is dawning in Aziraphale’s eyes. He swallowed. “So… this is….” 

Rather then give explanations, Ligur decided to remove the top of his box. Aziraphale’s eyes widened, and he gave a _gasp_. His hands flew to his mouth, and he clenched his eyes shut. On top of the box were documents. Photos, letters, scrapbooks. Things that Aziraphale had told Crowley about - from weekends he had spent with his mom organizing family photos they had. 

“There’s mail too,” Hastur said gently, “If he held onto it, it’s probably important. There’s something here about an estate.” 

But Aziraphale isn’t paying attention. He’s going through the first box, slowly taking out the scrapbooks, special first edition novels his father had left behind, and other photos that had never been sorted. Each item is touched with a heavy reverence, as if each item were priceless. For Aziraphale, each item is. Tears are falling down his face, and his hands shake as he tries to parse out each photo. Taking pity on him, Crowley scooted closer, gently taking some of the photos out of his hands as he kept shaking. So Aziraphale clung to him, and Crowley very slowly sorted through that first box. Ligur, Hastur, and Beelzebub all sat down to let Aziraphale tell them about each photo and each item.

“ _ Thank you _ ,” Aziraphale whispered, his voice shaking with gratitude and they don’t respond. Crowley pressed a kiss to his temple. 

“I didn’t think I would ever see these again,” Aziraphale whispered, and Crowley squeezed him. 

The other boxes hold some more photos, a couple of scarves that Ligur had guessed were Aziraphale’s (he was half right). Crowley’s box held a coat that had obviously  _ not _ been Gabriel’s and Aziraphale gave such a delighted  _ gasp _ when he saw it (“It was a family heirloom, I kept it in tip-top condition since I was a child!”) and gave him a deep kiss. Then Crowley pulled out a bag that contained nothing but batteries, and they all stared at him. 

“Those aren’t mine.” Aziraphale unnecessarily pointed out, but Crowley just gave a smirk. 

“I know love. These were from every remote and appliance I could find.  _ And _ I found his box of spares,” Which Crowley pulled out next, “Just in case he wanted to switch any batteries out _ .” _

Everyone roared with laughter, and Aziraphale gave him another kiss just for being dastardly enough. It was quite a lovely thing to imagine, and focusing on it helped calm Aziraphale down. Lilith brought out some coffee - and hot chocolate - and Aziraphale went through the scrapbooks. It was the first time in a  _ year _ he was seeing any of this, and he didn’t even  _ care _ that they were looking at his baby pictures. 

“You were so chubby!” Hastur was leaning over him, and on him, to get a better look. It was true - Aziraphale as an infant looked like the cherubs Crowley would see in a renaissance painting come to life. 

“You really  _ are  _ an angel,” Crowley murmured, and Aziraphale gave a fond chuckle. 

"Not an angel, just a person," Aziraphale said, not even protesting as Hastur started to go through one of the boxes with Lucifer. 

"Hey, 'Zira," Hastur said, ignoring Aziraphale's "_That's not my name_" reply, "These are legal documents about an estate."

"What estate?" Aziraphale asked, confused. 

Lucifer was sorting through the letters. "These have been opened," he muttered darkly, "Are these your parent's names?" 

He held up a few different letters. Reluctantly, Aziraphale set down the photos to inspect what Hastur, Ligur, and Lucifer were looking at. "Those  _ are _ my parent's names. I haven't seen this before." 

"Your parents had life insurance," Lucifer said, looking through the documents, "You were supposed to get money for this. For the last three and a half years."

"And there was money set aside by your grandmother," Ligur read out loud, "Did you know about that?" 

Aziraphale was stunned. "I.. I didn't. What's life insurance?" 

" _ Fuck _ you're young," Ligur swore. Hastur laughed and Aziraphale glared at them.

"You don't have to-" Aziraphale said, puffing up angrily.

"No, no, that's not what he means," Hastur laughed. "You set off his protective instincts because you look like a small woodland creature. This just exacerbates it." 

Lilith cut in, "Life insurance is something you would set up, to take care of your loved ones after you pass away," she explained. "If you had a family lawyer, they would have walked you through it when they died." 

"We didn't have one," Aziraphale said, "Gabriel had… Gabriel had said he would take care of it." 

"It looked like he was trying to take the money  _ from _ you," Lucifer said, sorting through the letters. "But unsuccessfully."

"Bastard," Beelzebub swore. "We'll make sure you get it." 

"Hastur and I will help," Ligur promised, "He's the best at making sure money moves where it needs to." 

Crowley reached over and grabbed his hand, which was when Aziraphale realized it had been shaking. "Sit down love," he said, "It'll be alright."

Aziraphale sat down, bewildered. "Here," Lilith handed him a hot cocoa. When he took a sip, he _laughed_ at the unexpected taste. "Thank you Lilith," he grinned. 

"Not a problem my darling," She said gently. "I'll finish up dinner, it looks like we made just enough for everyone." 

"Oh good," Crowley grouched, "So glad you could all invite yourselves over for dinner." 

"Hey," Lucifer grinned, helping Hastur divide up the papers. "It's no problem at all." Crowley groaned. 

Aziraphale offered Crowley his cocoa. 

"Thanks angel. But I'll need something stronger than that to deal with all this." Crowley said. 

"Taste it." Aziraphale said, and Crowley did. Then he laughed. 

Hot Chocolate and Baileys. Thank whatever higher power existed that Lilith was there. "Thank you Lilith," Crowley called over. Her laughed rang from the kitchen. 

\----------

The dinner that night had, despite Crowley's complaining, been wonderful. Aziraphale and Lilith were quite the pair in the kitchen, and it had been nice to see Aziraphale get to entertain. Crowley hadn't hosted people in... well. He had never hosted anyone. After, Beelzebub left to go meet up with Dagon, and Lucifer stayed in the kitchen to wash the dishes. Lilith was making sure the food was put away and organized while Hastur and Ligur helped Aziraphale sort through and put everything away. 

Over the next week, Hastur and Aziraphale went through all the documents that they had found, and worked on making sure that the money promised to Aziraphale actually went to him. Hastur helped him set up his own account, and walk through every step the insurance companies required. It meant late nights, but it was worth it to help Aziraphale process everything. 

"Call me Uncle Hastur," Had been the reply Aziraphale got when he thanked him, "Between taking you to the doctors and this I'm basically your guardian." 

"That's not how that works," Aziraphale protested, but he was blushing all the same. It was so nice to be able to depend and rely on people to help him, people who geniunely wanted to see him do well. 

"Don't talk to your uncle like that," Ligur said, not looking up from the letter about Aziraphale's grandmother's will. "I think we have what we need for this."

"If you want to go into business," Hastur said, "It looks like you have something to help you get started." 

Aziraphale shook his head. "I don't want to start a business," He said, "That's not what I've been looking into."

They both looked up. "So..." Ligur said carefully. He had to be careful, Hastur told him that you weren't supposed to push a kid into a career, you had to give them space, "You've been looking into a career?"

Aziraphale nodded, typing something on his computer. "I've been doing research," He said, "And I think I know what I want to do. Thankfully, it looks like there's enough here to cover it."

He didn't seem interested in discussing it further, and admitted that he wanted to talk to Crowley about it. 

"That's fine," Hastur said, because Aziraphale was technically his own person. "But you don't need his permission."

"It's not about permission," Aziraphale said, "It's just... he's been taking care of me. I want to... surprise him? If that makes sense?" 

"Gross," Ligur deadpanned, and Aziraphale laughed. 

\-------

Aziraphale wasn't the only one with a surprise. Crowley came home, rushing Hastur and Ligur out the door, who jeered at him as they left. "Don't have too much fun!" Hastur called, and Crowley flipped him off. Before Aziraphale could admonish him for being rude, Crowley had _picked him up, _and _spun him around. _

"What's gotten into you?" Aziraphale laughed. Crowley grinned. 

"We've been working hard. And we haven't even celebrated the party! Or getting your things back! We should go out." 

"Go out?" Aziraphale looked around. What day was it even? "But what's open on a-"

"What's open at five o'clock on a Saturday night?" Crowley snickered. Aziraphale blinked at him. 

"It's Saturday?" That would explain how Ligur got to spend time with them. "But where were you, dear?" 

"I was out, making sure we had plans for tonight," Crowley was in too good a mood, which was odd. Usually when Hastur and Ligur over-stayed he was always moaning and groaning as dramatically as possible. 

"So where are these _plans?" _Aziraphale asked, with a grin. 

"Well," Crowley said, drawing out the word, "Since we never got to go, I thought of a little place I could take us." 

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. "Where?"

"It's a surprise," Crowley said in a coo.

But Aziraphale didn't want to budge. "Are you going to drive? I'm not falling for that again." 

"I promise," Crowley said, raising his hand in oath, "To drive the speed limit. Or I'll wait for you to get your licence."

In a great show of restraint, he didn't even laugh at the face Aziraphale made. Hastur made good on his promise to teach him to drive, and Aziraphale did not like it. 

"Oh, fine," He acquiesced. "But no going over!" 

"You have my word," Crowley promised. Well. He was sure. Aziraphale had to know ten miles over was still okay, right? 

\-------

Aziraphale did not know about the ten mile rule, but once Crowley got to their destination Aziraphale didn't even care. Because they had finally made it to the Ritz. 

The Ritz! Aziraphale's heart hammered as the valet drove off with the Bentley, and they made their way inside. Oh, the Ritz was every bit as beautiful as Aziraphale thought it would be. His face was overtaken by the beauty of it, and he didn't notice the way Crowley's face softened at how delighted he looked. They were escorted to their table, Aziraphale feeling suddenly shy at the splendor of it all. 

"What wine do you think we should get?" Crowley asked. Aziraphale swallowed. "I... I'm not sure."

Crowley snickered. "Angel, don't get nervous on me now love. You're the one with the knack for what matches with what. I once got a red with fish." 

Aziraphale gaped in horror at him. "I used to eat a cup of instant noodles everyday, and that is the worst food crime I've ever heard." That was enough to shake him out of his insecurity, and Crowley got to watch in delight as his younger boyfriend could show off ordering to the befuddled waitstaff. Clearly, they had expected the man who pulled out Aziraphale's chair to be the one making decisions, but Crowley was eager to make a habit of taking his love places and watching him boss people around. It was also hilarious to watch their waiter ask to see his ID after he was the one to order their wine, but Crowley knew better then to point it out. 

They made light conversation after ordering, about what had been going on at the firm that week (nothing too serious), the process of transferring the funds to Aziraphale (agonizing but progressing) and films they could watch later (_Casablanca_ was Crowley's plan that night). Their wine was poured while Crowley tried to give a light explanation of the plot, but Aziraphale seemed distracted. Once the waiter left, Aziraphale cleared his throat a little. 

“I… I wanted to talk about something I had been thinking of.” 

Aziraphale wasn’t looking at him. He was staring intently at his wine glass, hoping for it to give him some courage. 

Crowley kept his voice casual and light. “What have you been thinking of?” 

“What I’d like to do, for a career.” Aziraphale could feel a pressure building - the anxiety was spreading through him. He hadn’t thought of a  _ career  _ in years, and the last few weeks had been so _intense_. 

“Hey, angel, look at me,” He looked up, to see Crowley smiling at him. He offered out his hand, and Aziraphale took it. 

“This is great,” Crowley said. “Let yourself be excited. Tell me what you’re thinking love.” 

Aziraphale smiled at him, giving Crowley’s hand a squeeze. “I’ve been reading while you’ve been at work, and researching different opportunities. And I do like research. But that moment when I was able to help you and your firm? Darling, that felt  _ incredible.”  _

“It should, you saved us back there,” Crowley said. 

“And I _loved_ being part of something so meaningful,” Aziraphale said, blushing a little at Crowley’s words. “And I think that’s what I should do. There are programs that can combine a bachelors and a graduate law degree. I’ll be a little on the older side at a university but… I think I can do it.” 

“I _know_ you can do it,” Crowley grinned. “You’ll make an  _ incredible  _ lawyer. You’ve practically read everything already, this’ll just be a formality for you.” He would certainly be the _most_ adorable attorney. 

“And you won’t be  _ that old,”  _ Crowley snorted, remembering what Aziraphale just said about the university. “You still look like you’re eighteen, or did you forget getting carded after  _ you chose and ordered the wine.”  _

Aziraphale giggled. He had a point. 

“What kind of law are you thinking?” Crowley asked, “And what school?” He prayed that Aziraphale would stay in the state - or in the area. There were a number of good schools locally. 

“I’m not sure exactly,” Aziraphale said, “But I’ve been thinking of defense, like what you do. And I didn’t want to leave this area, because. Well. I’ve. I’ve enjoyed living with you.” 

There was a flutter in Crowley’s heart as he heard that. “So room and board will be with me?” He winked. Aziraphale giggled again for him. 

"I would prefer that, if that's alright with you," He said. And Crowley grinned. 

"Think I'm a better roommate then anyone in a _dorm," _Crowley said, and Aziraphale chuckled. 

"I couldn't imagine being so far from you. Or... imagine," Aziraphale laughed, "You _visiting me _in one of those twin beds!" 

Crowley shuddered. The firm would never let it go. "Just stay with me," He said, and Aziraphale finished laughing. 

“I think the account, and the money that got left to me will go to tuition,” Aziraphale said. Hastur had helped him place all the calls he needed to secure the funding that his parents had left, and if he were careful it would be able to pay for nearly anything. Not to his surprise, but Hastur was particularly adept at navigating financial services - apparently that used to be his background. Driving ( _ “Babysitting Crowley _ ”, to use his words) was just a  _ hobby _ for him. In his own time he met with clients as a notary or did his own consulting as a CPA. But he didn’t like sitting in an office for long stretches of time. And he was  _ very _ picky with clients, usually he worked as a consultant for the firm.

“I think you’re right,” Crowley agreed. “But also you should know there’s a scholarship for you whenever you need. From me.” 

Aziraphale flushed with gratitude. “Thank you, my dear.” He tried to go for levity. “I suspect the application process is, erm. Long? And hard?” 

Crowley snickered. “It requires multiple rounds too.”

“I’ll do my best to  _ study,”  _ Aziraphale said, doing his best to look  _ sultry.  _

“I’ll help,” Crowley said, and their back-and-forth was interrupted as the food arrived. 

“I’m glad,” Aziraphale said, beginning to dig in. He gave a little wiggle. "I'm excited about the process, though I confess I'm worried about admission. It's a very selective program."

"You'll be fine," Crowley waived him off. "Anyone from the firm can give you a letter. And, you know who sits on the admissions for the school, right?" 

Aziraphale stared blankly at him. 

"My father," He said, "Oh, and Lilith works at the University, but different department." But once she knew about his application, Crowley was pretty sure she wouldn't rest until he was admitted. Not that Aziraphale needed to know that, yet. 

"I'll still work hard on it," Aziraphale protested. "I want to do this right."

"I know you do," Crowley said, "And I want to be a part of this." 

_ I want to be part of this.  _

That thought sunk in for Crowley. And Aziraphale was talking, going over different programs he had found that would let him stay in the area, but his words were fading into the background of Crowley’s mind.  _ I want to be part of this.  _

_ I want to be part of this.  _ Because he did. He wanted to be there for every step of the way, for everyday Aziraphale would have him. And that's when it hit him. 

_ I want to marry him.  _

Of course. Obviously. Crowley loved Aziraphale, he did. He wanted to support him, live with him. Be there. Because dating Aziraphale had been so good for him. And he wanted to be good for his love. Of course he wanted to marry him. That thought shocked him, and he ate, trying to keep his epiphany under wraps. 

Aziraphale was nervous. 

He was rambling, because he was nervous. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was saying anymore. Because the more he spoke, the more afraid he felt. But it was an _exciting_ fear. These were plans that would have to unfold over time. Over years. The ideal program, the one he really looked into a Tadfield University was a five year program. He hadn’t made a plan that far in the future in… well. Ever, really. But as this solidified for him, for the first time, Aziraphale realized no matter what direction he took there was one constant. That he wanted Crowley by his side for all of it. 

_ Oh,  _ he thought,  _ I want to marry him.  _

  
The rest of the night they spoke about the different programs Aziraphale looked at. They gossiped about Crowley’s office. They ordered a dessert to split that Crowley mostly fed to Aziraphale. 

After Crowley paid, he drove them both back to  _ their _ home where they watched _Casablanca_ and  _ made love  _ for hours. 

All the while, neither brought up the epiphany that they each individually came to. 

There wasn’t a rush - they had time, they had each other, and they were in love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be gentle!!


	6. The First Day of the Rest of Their Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at the past, present, and future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone!!! I did not anticipate the response this would get, it really has made me the happiest lady. A quick warning, there really isn't much drama or angst in this chapter. This is intended to be the resolution. In a much longer version of this in a world where I have all the time to write there would have been more with Gabriel and Sandalphon stirring shit, but this is not that world. Maybe down the road I will be able to post more smut that didn't make it into this story, but that will come later. 
> 
> Oh and also I’m playing with a concept that I have never tried before - ‘This is Us’ level time skips!! Nothing like experimenting with the last chapter of a story that got such a positive response to make the anxiety go CRAZY :D Le
> 
> ALSO! Important note. In my fantasy world, Aziraphale takes the bar before graduating and passes. That’s not how it works in real life. But also none of this story is real life. I apologize for not accurately portraying law school, or court, or the actual process of becoming a lawyer. I have a LOT of respect for people who are going through the process. But I needed to hand-wave fantasy a lot of stuff because Crowley has a whole sugar-daddy gift giving schedule that waits for no being; mortal, occult, ethereal, or otherwise.

\----

_ Five years later.  _

\----

A Bentley drove through the city streets, heading towards the office building where the firm  _ Crowley & Morningstar & Fly _ was located. The Bentley was owned by one Anthony Jay Crowley, but he was not in the car. The car was being operated by his part-time driver, and the firm’s part-time bookkeeper, Hastur LaVista. Its passenger was one recent graduate, and one  _ very  _ fidgety, Aziraphale Fell. From inside the car, a near-fight was taking place. 

"You're not  _ actually  _ nervous, are you?" Hastur asked, incredulously. "You've basically been working here for  _ years _ !" 

Ignoring him, Aziraphale shifted,  _ fidgeting _ in his seat. Today was the day. The interview day. The first day of the rest of his life. He believed that he was allowed a modicum of panicking and shifting to alleviate the nerves! But he had learned in five years that talking back only got him in trouble with Hastur, and then by extension Ligur because they did everything together. So he said nothing, but kept fidgeting. 

“Stop fidgeting,” Hastur ordered, “And I  _ told _ you not to drink coffee before we left, that it was only going to make you  _ more  _ nervous.” 

“I don’t tell  _ you _ what to do,” Aziraphale pouted, but  _ oh _ , he  _ should  _ have listened to Hastur. His whole stomach was  _ fluttering  _ with nervous energy that caffeine did  _ not  _ help.

“I can’t believe you drink  _ coffee  _ now,” Hastur sighed, looking a cross between sad and nostalgic. “I miss the little brat that would ask for,” and here his voice pitched to a higher level, in a crass and not at _all_ accurate impression of Aziraphale in his opinion, “ _ mochas with no coffee _ .” 

Six years ago, if Hastur had said that when they had first met, Aziraphale would have been  _ devastated _ \- and  _ sure _ that Hastur really didn’t like him and was being cruel. But overtime, Aziraphale had been able to curate a sense of when “Uncle Hastur” was being a dick just to be a dick. Right now, Hastur was joking, because he was trying to distract Aziraphale from having a nervous breakdown. It was sweet. 

Six years ago, Aziraphale would have shut down and apologized. Now, he gave a derisive  _ snort _ . “That  _ brat _ couldn’t last six months at Tadfield University without caffeine and learned to adapt appropriately.”

Aziraphale grinned at the surprised  _ laugh _ Hastur gave him. Hastur was glad that Aziraphale was learning to sass back in a genuine way, and be more open with the rest of the firm. He glanced up at the rear-view mirror mirror as Aziraphale closed his eyes, and tilted his head back his head back, lost in a memory. Because when he drank coffee for the first time, the firm nearly had a  _ meltdown _ . 

The University of Tadfield will allow a select group of individuals to complete a Bachelor’s degree  _ with _ a Juris Doctor in five years. It involves taking courses the  _ whole  _ year round - with minimal breaks no more than two weeks at a time in the winter and the summer. Applicants need to have no less than a 3.5 GPA from high school (though the average GPA for admitted students in the program was a 4.2), an SAT  _ and _ LSAT score in the 90th percentile, stellar essays, and  _ several  _ letters of recommendation. 

Aziraphale had studied hard -  _ delighting _ in getting to fall into his old study habits from high school. He was a good student then, and he’s just as good of a student now. For nearly eight hours a day - longer on weekdays when Crowley’s at work and not able to force him to stop - he pours over study guides and Crowley’s old journals to prepare his application. He writes and rewrites essays, editing furiously up to the deadline to submit. Lucifer and Beelzebub both write him letters of recommendation. Crowley had offered, but Aziraphale said no, thinking it would be too odd for a boyfriend to write one. 

For Aziraphale, it's a _stressful_ process. The rest of the firm laughs, and tells him he is overthinking the whole thing. But Aziraphale doesn't believe them. They say that he has natural experience, but Aziraphale  _ doesn’t  _ fall back on it. He  _ also _ doesn’t fall back on the fact that Crowley's father (“ _ Call me AJ kid _ ,” He’ll say every time they get a meal together - Sunday night dinners are quickly becoming a tradition) is on the Admissions Committee - that only manages to stress him out  _ more _ . Because he’s  _ terrified _ of Crowley Senior ( _ “I’m not kidding Aziraphale, call me AJ”) _ seeing his entire application and  _ knowing everything about him. _ Crowley (Junior, that is) has to start imposing quotas on how long Aziraphale will study on the weekends. 

On one memorable occasion, Aziraphale wakes one Saturday to find himself tied to the bed,  _ literally _ being forced to take the day to relax by Crowley. Granted, it had led to some  _ nice  _ stress relief. 

\----

_ Five years ago… _

\----

Studying nothing but LSAT material was giving Aziraphale incredibly confusing dreams. He was currently in the middle of one where he and Beelzebub were brownies, and Newton was a glass of milk asking about the difference of different Latin roots when Aziraphale realized he _was_ having a dream, and needed to be  _ awake _ and  _ studying _ . 

With a jolt, he shook himself awake. What time was it? He didn’t get up with his alarm, which was, well, alarming. A glance to his right showed that the sun was already streaming through the window, it had to at  _ least  _ be noon. 

Aziraphale let a swear that would have made Hastur threaten to wash his mouth out with soap, and made to leap to his feet so he could make up the lost time. 

Only as he tried to get up, he realized that he  _ couldn’t.  _ His right arm was  _ tied to the headboard _ . Instinctively, he tried to reach over with his left arm, which was  _ not  _ bound, but then cursed as he realized it was  _ still _ in the cast. They had an appointment to get it removed, but that wouldn’t be until  _ after _ the application deadline. And that didn’t help Aziraphale  _ now.  _

“Crowley?” He called out, because now he could  _ hear  _ his boyfriend walking around. Sure enough, as soon as he called out, _there_ was his love in the doorway. Crowley was drinking coffee out of a comically large mug, and gave him a grin that made his eyes glint  _ demonically  _ in the light. Aziraphale gulped. 

“Oh, you’re up.” Crowley grinned, setting the mug down. He sat on the edge of the bed, to place the mug down on the bedside table. Then he leaned down to give Aziraphale a kiss. Aziraphale leaned up to kiss him back, straining against the bondage. 

“Darling, what is this?” Aziraphale gave an exaggerated tug, so there was  _ no _ mistaking what he could possibly mean. 

Crowley gave a careless glance to his arm, _frowning_ as Aziraphale tried to keep pulling. “You should put your arm down, not strain it.” 

“Did you tie me to the bed?” Aziraphale needlessly accused. Crowley snorted. 

“Baby, I know you’re smarter than this. Of course I did.” Aziraphale gave a  _ flush _ at the pet name and subsequent praise. 

“Okay. You tied me to the bed.  _ Why?”  _

“_Because_,” Crowley leaned down to suck a mark on his neck, and Aziraphale strained, moaning into the sensation. “You’ve been working too hard, and I think it’s time you took a moment to  _ relax  _ and take it  _ easy  _ today.” 

“But, but,” Aziraphale stammered. One of Crowley’s hands went to his curls and  _ pulled  _ forcing his head back. His lips went to nibble on his ear and Aziraphale whimpered. It felt so _nice. _He could  _ feel  _ that lightheaded sensation creeping from his arms and clouding his brain, making him  _ want _ to go under and submit to Crowley. “But I have to-”

“You’re more than ready,” Crowley said, giving him a proud smile. “You have been working harder than anyone I’d ever seen. Your essays are done, you took the LSAT already, all that’s left is to submit the application and  _ rest.  _ I can’t  _ force _ you to submit the application, but I  _ can  _ get you to relax for me.” 

Aziraphale’s reply was cut off as Crowley pulled him into another kiss, and his hands trailed down his body. They paused at his nipples, and Aziraphale  _ mewled _ as Crowley ran teasing circles around them with his thumbs. He squirmed, and the attorney _grinned_ as Aziraphale shifted under him. They were  _ almost _ there.  _ Almost _ . 

He dipped his head to make another mark on Aziraphale’s neck, who moaned  _ wonderfully  _ for him. Crowley kept kissing his way down his chest, over his stomach. He placed careful  _ nips _ along his lower stomach, his hands moving down Aziraphale’s sides. His angel shuddered, moaned, and then gave a startled  _ laugh _ as his hands went over his hips, which Crowley decided to file for  _ later _ . 

Instead, he wrapped a hand around Aziraphale’s dick, giving a devilish little grin at the way Aziraphale’s head fell back and his whole body went  _ limp. There _ it was. 

Crowley didn’t untie Aziraphale until he’d had him with his hand, and then nearly fucked him  _ into _ the headboard. When they were done Aziraphale’s eyes were fogged over, and he gave the happiest,  _ sleepiest _ smile Crowley had seen. 

“Let’s just sleep,” Aziraphale half-suggested, half-giggled as Crowley untied him. 

For his part, Crowley thought he did a  _ very _ good job of not laughing. 

“Great idea,” He agreed, and encouraged Aziraphale to snuggle into his chest. Crowley pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and they dozed off together. 

It was _worth_ it though. That hard work had all been _worth_ _it_ when he was able to submit an application that boasted _record _test scores. Aziraphale had received his LSAT scores when out with the firm, and was bullied by Anathema into reading his score out loud. 

Aziraphale typed on his phone for a few minutes while they waited with bated breath. Then, because he had no poker face, they all  _ saw  _ his excited smile and were relieved  _ before _ he read out, “One seventy-nine!” 

They  _ cheered,  _ and Crowley gently cupped the sides of his face to bring him in for a kiss while Lucifer cheered, “Look at our own  _ Legally Blonde  _ over here!” 

“We’ll watch it tonight,” Crowley whispered, when they broke apart. His boyfriend hadn't seen it yet. Aziraphale just smiled and kissed him again. 

He didn’t even mind that they called him Elle Woods for the rest of the night, trusting that it wasn’t something mean. It was just so nice to be around people he could feel  _ liked him.  _

When they watched it later that night, Aziraphale had gasped delightedly. 

“That nickname was such a _compliment_,” He whispered, clinging to Crowley. His eyes were glued to the screen as he watched Elle Woods work hard, dress fabulously, succeed, and date the most lovely man! Crowley’s eyes were on Aziraphale. 

“It’s a compliment for her,” was his response. Aziraphale blushed, and the moment the movie ended they were on each other. 

It was after they had made love that Aziraphale walked from their bedroom, to sit naked on the throne and submit his application. He gave a little  _ wiggle  _ in delight, and then went back to join Crowley. 

The turn around from Aziraphale submitting his application to knowing if he got in was  _ quick.  _ The academic committee was fast to make choices, because anyone who didn’t get in would have to be lumped into the general admission for the undergraduate school. 

For Aziraphale, that meant he had been sent his letter the day he was supposed to be getting the cast off, merely a week after Crowley had  _ made  _ him relax.

Crowley brought it up with the rest of the mail while Aziraphale finished breakfast, so they could head to the doctor's office and get it removed. He shuffled through the mail absent-mindedly, while Aziraphale handed him a mug of coffee. Crowley pecked him in _thanks, _as he sorted out bills from coupons. But then, he stopped dead when he recognized the University logo and Aziraphale's name. Crowley called over to Aziraphale, showing him the letter.   
  


When Aziraphale saw the envelope, however, his whole face _fell_. 

"What's wrong?" Crowley asked, confused. That wasn't the reaction he had been expecting. It should have been happiness. Or apprehension. Or even anxiety. But Aziraphale _already _seemed defeated. 

Aziraphale shook his head, trying to pull his jacket on. Crowley walked over to help.

"Let's just go," Aziraphale begged, "I'll open it when we get back."

"No, no, we should take it with," Crowley argued, and Aziraphale didn't even _try_ to debate him, which was worrisome enough. When Crowley pressed him to speak, Aziraphale just clammed up and wouldn't answer. 

Crowley took them both to Dr. Tracey, and tried not to let the awkward silence affect him. Aziraphale was _allowed_ to have moments of nervousness. So they waited in silence to be called back, and headed back together to sit in one of the check up rooms. Finally, Aziraphale spoke up. 

"It's a _thin_ letter," Aziraphale fretted, very seriously  _ not _ looking at it.

"What?" Crowley asked, not immediately connecting the dots. 

"The letter," Aziraphale explained, looking crestfallen. "Big envelopes are good news, little ones are bad news." 

"Thin or thick doesn't mean  _ anything _ anymore," Crowley protested, as Dr. Tracey walked in.

"Oh I beg to differ love," She said, offering a wink. Aziraphale gave a startled laugh, her joke catching him off-guard. 

"Hello to you, Aziraphale, and…" Her eyes lingered on Crowley, and she clearly  _ did _ recognize him. In return, Crowley gently raised his eyebrows, indicating that he definitely remembered  _ her.  _

_ See? I told you I was committed.  _

His message came through. She seemed to give a slight nod, as if to cautiously acknowledge him. 

"Hello Aziraphale," She said again, "Are you ready to get that cast off?" 

He grinned at her. "Yes  _ please _ ." 

She stepped forward to begin removing it. "What are we talking about?" She asked, having him lay his arm down on the table so she could begin carefully cutting it off. 

"Aziraphale applied to law school," Crowley said, holding up the envelope, "and  _ this _ is the acceptance letter that he won't open."

" _ Anthony Jay Crowley _ ! How dare you!" Aziraphale hissed, "You cannot just  _ say  _ that! You-you-you-"

"I’ll tempt the, ‘wrath of whatever from high atop the thing’?" Crowley suggested, and grinned as the reference went right over his love's head.

" _ Exactly _ ," Aziraphale snapped. Crowley snorted, making a mental note to show him _The West Wing_ later. 

Dr. Tracey took a moment to stop and  _ look _ at them. " _ School _ ?" She asked. 

When Aziraphale didn't say anything, Crowley explained. "He's  _ going _ to become a lawyer, and he applied to Tadfield University, but if he never opens the letter he won't make the deadline to put the deposit down." 

He watched as the words sank in. The cautious approval began to make way for something more sincere. Tracey gave him a smile. 

"I couldn't have  _ possibly _ gotten in though," Aziraphale fretted, gesturing with his free arm. "That's  _ not _ an inspiring envelope size."

"Ah," She understood now. With a gentle smile at Aziraphale, she said, "Well, love, I have to agree with your man here."

"Thank you!" Crowley said, and then her words sank in for him. He gave her a sly grin. "Oh, so now I get to be  _ his man _ now?" 

She shifted, and made a show of focusing on her work. Crowley snickered as Aziraphale looked back and forth at them. He had been asleep when they had met, and missed the confrontation entirely between them. 

“Do you two know each other?” He asked. 

Dr. Tracey let herself pause, and offered Crowley a smile. “We don’t dear. I merely thought I did.” 

Crowley assumed that was as good as he was going to get, which was fine. He didn’t  _ need  _ her approval. He just needed Aziraphale. 

After she finished, she had Aziraphale practice gently bending his wrist to check the dexterity. Thankfully, she cleared him, but told him to keep taking it easy. 

“Wait,” Crowley said, before she left the room. She looked back at him. 

“I have other patients to see, Mr. Crowley,” the Doctor frowned at him sternly. 

“Yeah, I know,” He said, “But look, I wouldn’t have met Aziraphale if you didn’t help him out. And you should be here for this.”

“_Crowley_-” Aziraphale protested, but the attorney rounded on him with a stern look.

“_Angel_, you worked your bloody arse off the last month and a half to get into this school. You’re _going_ to open this letter so you can _accept_ that you did an amazing job, and then we are going to  _ celebrate  _ this opportunity for you.”

Aziraphale gave a blink of surprise. Never, outside the bedroom, was Crowley so _stern_ with him like this. In his stunned silence, he held out his hand and Crowley placed the envelope in it. With both Crowley and Dr. Tracey watching him, he slowly began opening the letter, taking the time to unfold the page. 

Crowley was watching for his face, to wait for Aziraphale’s lack of a poker face to clue him in, but there was nothing. Carefully, Aziraphale brought the letter up and read out loud, peering through his glasses. 

“‘_Dear Mr. Fell_’,” He read, his hand trembling, “‘_The application process for the BA/JD Program to Tadfield University received a record number of applicants - over ten thousand for one hundred available spots.’_” 

A pit began to form in Crowley’s stomach. This didn’t sound like an acceptance letter. But his dad would have texted him, surely, as a heads up? 

Aziraphale took a moment, because he was thinking the same thing. He took a breath and kept reading, “‘_It is therefore with great pleasure that-_” His voice trailed off, and his eyes went wide. 

“Crowley,” He whispered, and Aziraphale could _feel_ his eyes filling with tears. “_Crowley_,” He whispered again, and read out loud, “‘ _ It is with great pleasure that we admit you to the program, and the graduating class of 2021!”  _

Crowley let out a triumphant  _ laugh _ , and rushed forward to spin Aziraphale around. “I _told_ you!” He said, as Aziraphale half-laughed, half-cried, “I told you that this was your acceptance letter!” 

“Congratulations Aziraphale,” Dr. Tracey said, giving him a soft smile. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, looking at her breathlessly. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

She let out a laugh. “Oh, dear, that’s not true,” She smiled at him. “You would have found your way with or without me. But it does warm my heart that you have this man by your side.” 

“Like I told you,” Crowley weeded, because he was still just a bit of an asshole. She snorted, and bade them goodbye. 

They went out to dinner that night, Aziraphale texted the letter to Hastur and Anathema. Before they knew it, both their phones were being spammed by the rest of the office to celebrate after. Aziraphale gave Crowley a sheepish grin, who sighed. 

“Alright, _yes_, we can celebrate with them.” 

Aziraphale laughed and gave a little  _ wiggle.  _ Crowley kissed him, because he could. 

“Before we get swept up by the others,” Crowley said, “There’s something I wanted to give you. I’ve had it for a while now, but I think the time is right.” 

“Dearest,” Aziraphale looked around, making sure they were out of earshot, “You’ve already fucked me, I’ve  _ seen _ _ it_.” 

Crowley barked out a laugh. “You  _ brat,”  _ he said affectionately. “No. Not that. Maybe later.” He pulled out a box, and Aziraphale recognized this logo. His eyebrows raised. 

“Is that…” Aziraphale reached out, but didn’t  _ quite  _ touch the box. Crowley reached out to take his left hand, the one that had been in the cast, and held it between his two. 

“May I?” Crowley asked, and he nodded. Crowley reached over to the box, where a new watch laid inside. 

“I wanted to make sure the timing was right for this,” He said gently, fastening the watch around his wrist. “I loved how happy you were to have it, those weeks ago. I never forgot that. When you were so sad to lose it, I promised to replace it because I wanted to see your eyes light up to take it in.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale whispered, smiling at him. “Crowley, I love it.” 

“I love you,” Crowley answered. “And now,” He smiled, “You’ll be able to keep track of the time as you go to class, when you have to keep your phone off.” 

Aziraphale chuckled, admiring the way the watch would glint in the light. 

\-----

Present Day: 

\----

“Do you remember,” Hastur piped up, after a few moments. Aziraphale had been lost in his own memories and had very nearly dozed off in the process. Ever since graduation he seemed to be moving through an odd fog. After he and Crowley got back to their apartment after his graduation party, Aziraphale had been so deliriously tired and relieved to have his BA and JD. 

He had tried to come onto Crowley to celebrate. Tried, being the operative word. Crowley had chuckled, and pushed him down on the bed and tucked him in. Aziraphale slept for nearly three days  _ straight _ . And it seemed he was still catching up on sleep, because as Hastur spoke up he jolted upright. 

“I’m awake.” He said, and glared at the laugh he got. 

“Do you remember,” Hastur repeated, grinning, “When I would have to come into the library and get you because you fell asleep over piles of books?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “That only happened…” He trailed off, trying to count the number of times that had actually happened. 

“Two or three times a semester, you don’t get to act all indignant on me,” Hastur sneered fondly. 

“And  _ that’s _ why,” Aziraphale said, not wanting to get into this fight again, “I started taking up coffee.”

“You don’t  _ take up coffee, _ ” Hastur laughed, “You start  _ drinking _ it. It’s not that hard a concept.”

“Clearly it wasn’t that easy,” Aziraphale said, “Because Ligur acted like I started taking drugs.” 

Coffee  _ was _ a drug, but Hastur didn’t think that was the point. 

\-----

4 ½ years ago:

\----

The program was  _ intense _ . If Crowley thought Aziraphale’s study schedule was overbearing before, it got even  _ worse _ now. 

Aziraphale studied  _ everywhere _ . Flashcards could be found all over their apartment, in Crowley’s desk at work, at the reception desk at the firm - even the break room. He poured over readings and made the most detailed notes any of them had ever seen. 

“I thought having my dad as your professor would make you feel more comfortable,” Crowley said, eyeing Aziraphale’s notes for his father’s class. They looked like a miniature book. Aziraphale snorted.

“Your dad kicked my friend Uriel out because she couldn’t remember the Supreme Court Justice of 1886, and then I had to summarize a case from 1890 in the same ten minutes,” Aziraphale hissed, his voice nearly hysterical. “How am I supposed to  _ relax?”  _ Or even call him dad - which was something  _ new _ AJ wanted. 

Crowley winced in sympathy. “Sorry angel. Moving out made me forget what a nightmare he could be.” He watched Aziraphale write the same sentence three times, and decided that he wasn’t going to let his lover stay up past one in the morning anymore. Aziraphale didn’t have class until the afternoon on Tuesdays, and was taking advantage of the firm’s conference room to study. 

“Can I get you anything?” He asked, wanting to at least be supportive. 

Aziraphale chewed on his pen. “I’m incredibly tired, but I need to stay awake,” He said. 

“They make something for that,” Crowley reminded him. 

When Aziraphale looked confused, Crowley bit back his smile. “Coffee angel. You can drink coffee.”

“That’s right!” Aziraphale said. “Can I get… oh. I guess it would just be a mocha. An  _ actual _ mocha.” 

“ _ Yup _ ,” Crowley said, drawing out the word and enunciating the ‘p’. “That’s what a mocha is.”

“Hey ‘Zira,” Ligur ducked into the conference room. 

“That’s still not my name,” Aziraphale said, but Ligur ignored him to say, “Hastur and I just got coffee, on my break, and the barista messed up and gave me this extra hot chocolate, do you want it?” 

It wasn’t even a  _ good _ lie, but Crowley wasn’t enough of an asshole to call him out on it. 

Aziraphale didn’t seem to notice, however. “Oh, thank you!” He said, giving Ligur a bright smile. “Darling,” He asked Crowley, “Is that coffee pot Anathema made in the break room still full?” 

“It is,” Crowley said, because Anathema made weak coffee. Only Newt would drink it, because he liked her. But that would be a good start for Aziraphale's first coffee. “Do you want to add coffee to that hot chocolate?”

“Wait,” Ligur said, nearly pulling the cup away from Aziraphale who whimpered in protest. “_Coffee_?” 

“Please?” Aziraphale said, and it was obvious how sleep-deprived he was because he was starting to  _ wobble _ , “I don’t want to get kicked out and I have so much reading left to do.” 

The wobbling and doe eyes - Ligur’s only known weaknesses - made him falter and he handed the cup over. Aziraphale wiggled and thanked him, before rushing to find some coffee to add. 

“He’s drinking coffee now?” He demanded, as if this were Crowley’s fault. Crowley rolled his eyes, but throughout the day Lucifer and Beelzebub expressed similar distress, along with _everyone else_. That night, while they ate dinner, Crowley had to accept a call from an irritated Lilith as well. 

\------

Present Day: 

\------

“Okay  _ fine.”  _ Aziraphale ranted, _ “ _ It’s not my fault! Do you know how  _ terrifying  _ classes were? How people were kicked out if they didn’t answer quickly enough, or incorrectly, or if they dressed too informally? How AJ would tell me at Sunday night dinner to call him dad, and then ask me to list the entire clerk staff of Chief Justice John Marshall on Monday?” 

Hastur snorted. “And he _'disliked you'_ enough that you clerked for him for a year and a half, you managed  _ fine _ .” 

Of course it was easy to say this now. But they could both remember moments where Hastur went to get Aziraphale at the library and he would be panicking over some assignment or another. Or the time when Aziraphale had to spend a weekend with him and Ligur once because it had been finals week, he’d been having nightmares, and when Crowley tried to wake him up from one, Aziraphale mistook him for his father and hyperventilated. 

But as Hastur said, everything worked out alright. AJ had been impressed with Aziraphale - he was the  _ only _ student that year who didn’t get kicked out of his class, which was apparently a right of passage for everyone at the Law School. As a result, he selected Aziraphale to clerk for him when he entered his fourth year. 

The firm celebrated when he passed exams (which he did and did well, naturally) and always had a mocha (with coffee) ready when the semester was well under-way. At least once a week, for a few hours, Crowley would forcibly sit Aziraphale down to watch a movie and  _ relax _ . They all worked to support him and get him through the program, which had been worth it to see him cross the state at graduation day. 

\------

Flashback: One Month Ago

\------

“I didn’t realize how _many_ pictures you took on graduation day,” Aziraphale reflected, touching his own cheeks. “I feel like my face is  _ stuck _ this way.”

“Like a doll,” Hastur teased. Aziraphale glared at him. 

“One more picture,” Lilith cajoled, holding her phone out. Despite the tone, Aziraphale knew this was _not_ a request. She was _going_ to get that one more picture. 

Instead, he held up the diploma holder, and smiled. Lilith made him take a couple hundred more - one with her and Lucifer, at least a fifty on his own, a hundred more with Crowley, several with Hastur and Ligur - the  _ entire  _ firm was there, and she made him pose with everyone. Aziraphale didn’t know how they were all able to come, considering he had only been allowed three tickets, but Ligur told him not to worry. 

Usually that _would_ make him worry, but he was deliriously relieved and tired. He had just gotten through taking his last wave of exams, the bar, and not sleeping properly for the last five years was weighing down on him. It was to the point that he decided, ‘fuck it,’ and just accepted everyone’s presence. 

“I can’t believe the _actual_ degrees aren’t in here,” He complained to Crowley, not for the first time. “With how much tuition was, it feels like a rip-off that it’s going to be mailed in three months. And it’s so hot out! Why do they give you long black robes to wear in the summer?”

“Maybe let me hold them then,” Crowley offered, not for the first time. Ligur had put some flowers around Aziraphale earlier, because he had seen other parents doing that all day, and had felt it was his responsibility. Currently, Aziraphale was shuffling the flowers around his neck, the degree holders, the stole the university gave him, the hood, _and_ flowers that Anathema had given him to hold. 

The suggestion was practical, but Aziraphale was reluctant to let any of it go. 

"This is silly," he said sheepishly, "But I'm afraid that if I let go, they'll be taken away."

"I understand, I was the same way. But come with me, I got you something," Crowley said, going to the trunk. "It's a present for graduating law school, this is something you get when you graduate." 

Bemused, Aziraphale smiled as Crowley opened his trunk, and reached in to pull out a briefcase with an outlandish bow attached. That made him laugh. 

"When you go to work," Crowley grinned, "Because you're old-fashioned enough to still use these." 

Aziraphale gave him the widest smile, not even bothered by the soreness. "Oh darling, thank you!" He cupped Crowley's face in his hands to give him a kiss. 

"That's not all," Crowley said, handing it to him. "Open it." 

He did, to fit the degree holders inside, and laughed when he noticed the handle and accents were tartan. 

"I  _ love _ it," Aziraphale said, giving him another kiss. Even the inside of the suitcase was lined with a more subdued version of the pattern. 

"I figured this was more  _ your  _ style," Crowley playfully teased. 

Aziraphale leaned up to give him a peck. "I love it. And I love you." 

"I love you too," Was Crowley's reply, and he pulled him close by the waist. There were some catcalls from behind them, and he groaned while Aziraphale laughed into their kiss. 

"We do have the party at our home, do  _ not _ be late," Lilith said. Although she said it teasingly, her eyes were stone-cold. 

"Of course," Aziraphale said, missing the threat entirely. "We'll be right there!"

\-----

Present Day: 

\----

Hastur pulled up, and opened the door to help Aziraphale out. Before he could move in, Hastur gently grabbed his shoulders. 

“Look at me ‘Zira,” He said, and it was a remarkable testament to how for they had come that Aziraphale didn’t even protest the nickname anymore. “You’re going to be fine. You saved them five years ago. You’ve helped nearly every audit since. You helped Beelzebub when they defended that kid Warlock. Basically, it’s time they started paying you.” 

Aziraphale tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. Instead, he pulled Hastur into a hug. "Thank you," he said, "Thank you Hastur. For everything."

Hastur froze, but brought up his arms to return the hug. “Of course,” He said softly. “I’ll be here for you, alright?” 

“I think it’s ‘ _ I’ll be there for you’ _ ,” Aziraphale corrected, because it was either make a terrible joke or cry at the sincerity, and he had put on very light make-up that day and did not want the eyeliner to run. 

Hastur snorted. “Alright, get up there. Don’t want to be late now, do you?” 

Aziraphale looked down at the watch reflexively, and nodded. 

“I need to go park,” Hastur said, “But you can take the elevator up, right?”

“Yes, I have ridden in elevators before.” Aziraphale agreed. 

“Don’t be a brat,” Hastur said approvingly. “I’ll see you after, alright?” 

Aziraphale nodded. He stepped into the building, ignoring the way Hastur eyed the trunk of the Bentley. When he disappeared into the building, Hastur stayed by the car. Finally, Dagon came out. 

“Finally,” She teased, “I thought you would start crying on him.” 

“I don’t do that,” Hastur said, opening the trunk. Dagon began removing the items, promising that Newt would be down soon to help with the rest. 

\---

Aziraphale had taken the elevator up to Crowley’s floor countless times. But this was different. He made an audible gulp, tapping his foot nervously against the floor. Slowly, far too slowly, he rose up the floors and in the direction of the building. Aziraphale let out a breath, taking a deep one in and trying to count the seconds so he could calm down. 

Finally, he reached the floor, and stepped out. Newt was there, smiling as Aziraphale signed in. 

“I’m here for my interview,” Aziraphale said unnecessarily to him. “I’m meeting with some of the partners.”  _ Some _ , not all. 

The entire exchange was unnecessary. Newt had been told about Aziraphale coming in days ago. He and the others had been preparing for Aziraphale to come. Everything was ready. In a way, this had been building for years. 

“Of course,” He smiled at Aziraphale, who weakly returned it. “What can I get you? I made coffee this morning.”

“No, it’s only going to make him nervous,” Ligur said, walking over. He gave them both unimpressed looks. Aziraphale shifted, smiling at the other man. 

“Hastur told you not to have coffee before you left,” He chastised, looking Aziraphale over for any perceived blemishes. 

Aziraphale bit back the reply - “Hastur doesn’t tell me what to do,” because it would only get him in trouble. Instead, he said, “Alright, and now I’ve learned to listen to him.”

Ligur grinned. “You haven’t learned shit,” He said, but he was amused. For five years Aziraphale had listened to about half of what Ligur or Hastur told him. But that was supposedly normal for young adults, so they counted it as a win.

“I know what you’re doing,” Aziraphale said, rather then choose to keep bantering. 

“What am I doing ‘Zira,” Ligur asked. 

It was a testament to how wound up he was that he didn’t even insist that that wasn’t his name. “You’re trying to distract me, so I don’t panic.” 

Ligur gave him a deadpan stare. “I would never,” He lied. It was bad lie, too. A new voice could be heard then. 

“He would never,” and it never got old for anyone to watch the way Aziraphale’s face would  _ light up  _ to see Crowley approach. 

“Crowley,” He smiled, walking over to give him a kiss. Crowley wrapped his arms around him, and Aziraphale took a moment to rest his head in his shoulder and take a deep breath. That helped calm him down. 

“I want to wish you good luck,” Crowley said, pressing another kiss to his temple. 

“He doesn’t need luck,” Ligur argued, and behind Aziraphale’s back Crowley made a rude gesture that made him and Newt laugh. 

“Remember that they’re lucky to get to interview you,” Crowley whispered, “I only wish I could be in there.” 

“I don’t think that would be very proper,” Aziraphale smiled. 

“Fuck proper,” Crowley groaned, but it was true. 

“There are rules,” Aziraphale mock-chided, “About interviewing at a firm if you have lived with one of the senior partners for five years.”

“Yeah, _senior_ partner,” Ligur goaded, and Crowley  _ leveled _ a look at him. 

“You’re  _ older than I am, _ ” Crowley said, “And I can  _ fire you. _ ”

“No you can’t,” That was Anathema, coming to bring Aziraphale back. Aziraphale stepped out of Crowley’s embrace, and took a deep breath, steadying himself. 

Crowley gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, and Aziraphale followed her back. Anathema led him down the hall to their main conference room, where their interviews took place. It was also where Aziraphale had spent countless hours studying whenever he needed a quiet space. And now it was the room where he would be interviewed for his first job post-graduation. 

Anathema opened the door, and gave him a hopeful smile. “Good luck,” She whispered, and Aziraphale smiled at her before going in. 

Lucifer and Beelzebub, the two other senior partners, were there, waiting for him. His resume was in front of them both, and in a third chair where he would be expected to sit. 

“Thank you for coming in,” Lucifer said, leaning in to shake his hand. Aziraphale appreciated that there wasn’t any attempt to put him at ease. He didn’t have much experience with interviewing, but this felt real. He shook his hand, then reached to shake Beelzebub’s. The three sat down. 

“Thank you both for meeting with me,” Aziraphale said, resisting the urge to fidget. That coffee had been a mistake. Instead he took a moment to eye his resume, thinking how ironic it was that Lucifer and Lilith had helped him with it before graduation. 

“Usually,” Beelzebub said, “Hiring decisions by the firm are made by a majority vote between the three senior partners. However…”

“Getting interviewed by your boyfriend breaks  _ some _ impropriety,” Lucifer said with a grin. 

Aziraphale nodded. He had known this would be the case. “Certainly. I’m just interested in the opportunity. There’s never been a junior partner at this firm, has there?”

“There has not,” Beelzebub said, knowing full well that Aziraphale knew that, “But we’ve had an increase in our caseload. Which you would know about, because you’ve been helping us organize and file.”

“Which is a point for you,” Lucifer said, “But also it is partially your fault we’re in this situation.” 

Aziraphale had to bite his lip to keep from snorting. Winning that case and taking down the fraudulent celebrity had given the firm media attention. For as many late nights Aziraphale had from his own studying, Crowley also saw an increased workload because  _ everyone  _ wanted their representation. There were weekends, or times when Aziraphale just couldn’t study anymore, and he would come over to help Dagon, Ligur, or Anathema process things and talk through strategies. It had been a way to practically study - to remember  _ why  _ he was going through the program when things got tough. His perspective was also valued, because the staff on the firm had been there for years, and he could offer a fresh look. 

But technically, if Lucifer wanted to split hairs, it was his fault they all had more work to do. 

“I apologize,” Aziraphale said, giving a grin, and Lucifer waved him off. 

“Nah, it’s fine. But let’s look at this expertly-crafted resume,” He peered over it, ignoring the  _ snort  _ Beelzebub made. “You clerked for the State District Attorney? That’s impressive. He takes maybe two clerks a year - tell us about it.” 

Aziraphale let himself lean back, and take a breath. He could speak to that experience. The rest of the interview proceeded in that vein. They asked him about his time in law school, experience from working for the District Attorney, how he had helped their firm out over the years. Because they treated it like a real interview, he was asked about his relationship with Crowley, and promised that it would not affect his ability to do his job. 

“That’s great,” Lucifer said, breaking away from his character to give him a reassuring grin. 

“I’m not worried about you not working,” Beelzebub muttered, and Lucifer laughed. Aziraphale stammered, but they kept going. 

“What I will tell you,” Beelzebub said, “Is he wouldn’t be your supervisor. So don’t let him…  _ try  _ anything here.”

Aziraphale took a second to promise that he wouldn’t. Technically, that wouldn’t be a lie. He wouldn’t  _ do anything  _ with Crowley here. In the future. They didn’t exactly ask about what they had  _ already  _ done, and Aziraphale wasn’t going to offer up information they wouldn’t want to hear. 

Finally, it was time for him to ask questions, and it felt like the interview had gone by in the blink of an eye. Aziraphale was encouraged to walk through what he wanted to know. Beelzebub let him ask one last question, and then reached across the table to shake his hand. 

“Thank you for meeting with Lucifer and I,” They said, giving Aziraphale a smile. “We’ll have an answer for you soon.” 

Aziraphale stood to shake their hand and Lucifer’s. “Thank you both for interviewing me,” He said, his heart hammering in his chest. Goodness, he thought it went well. But who knows anymore? This was his first  _ real  _ interview. He had no way of knowing if it was good! 

“I think Newt made coffee,” Lucifer said, “You can grab some as you head out.” 

Well that sounded  _ lovely.  _ Newt made the best coffee, him and Dagon. 

“I think I will,” Aziraphale said, despite the fact that more caffeine was the last thing he needed for his nerves. “Maybe I’ll say hello to Crowley.” 

“Sure, let’s just go to the break room first,” Beelzebub agreed. 

The three of them headed in that direction, and Lucifer quickened his steps to open the door. Before he did, he stopped to turn to Aziraphale and smiled. 

“We said we’d have an answer for you  _ soon _ ,” He reminded him. When Aziraphale nodded, Lucifer smirked. 

“It’s  _ ‘soon’ _ ,” And opened the door. 

There was a party all set up inside the break room. Aziraphale let out a laugh. Everyone was there, Crowley in the middle. There were balloons and streamers. Even a cake that said ‘Congratulations’ in frosting. 

“That went on for too long,” Hastur mock-complained, “We set this whole party up and were kept  _ waiting.”  _

“Newt, Hastur, and I had to bring everything up from the Bentley,” Dagon grinned, giving Beelzebub a peck on the cheek. 

“This was still an interview!” Lucifer defended, “And you passed!” 

“Oh shocking,” Anathema deadpanned. 

“You’re taking on half my work,” Ligur said, pulling Aziraphale into the first hug. “It’s your fault my workload increased in the first place ‘Zira.” 

“We’ll work that out later,” Beelzebub said, and offered up champagne. 

Aziraphale felt so  _ happy,  _ but he was pretty sure most interviews didn’t end in hiring parties. 

“You didn’t really think they were going to say no, did you?” Anathema asked. Crowley’s arms were wrapped around him from behind. 

“We weren’t going to pass on hiring you,” He agreed. Aziraphale blushed. “I’m just so happy to be joining you all.”

Dagon interrupted them, handing Aziraphale hiring forms. “Sorry to interrupt,” She said, “But it’s not an office party if I don’t make it official.” Aziraphale smiled at their office manager. “Of course,” He said, taking the forms, “I’ll look at these.”

“Want a lawyer to help?” Crowley asked, pressing a kiss to his temple. Aziraphale giggled. “I think that would be smart,” He agreed. 

Of course, Crowley had helped draw out the paperwork to begin with. It was more than fair, and Crowley helped walk him through how to sign his contract, non-disclosure agreements, and the forms that the government needed. Which was good, because Aziraphale had never done that before. Ostensibly, Lucifer and Beelzebub were listed as his official supervisors, and they both had to sign a form declaring their relationship consensual. Seeing that made Aziraphale laugh. 

“Last chance to back out,” Crowley said light-heartedly, and Aziraphale placed his last signature. 

“And lose out on your health insurance? I think not,” he scoffed. They turned the forms in, and Hastur began cutting the cake. For a few hours they just relaxed, enjoying the party. Beelzebub led Aziraphale to an office that would be his, when he was set to start. Aziraphale took a moment, to walk the floor of a space that was going to be  _ his. His office.  _ With a door, four walls, everything. He had celebrated his twenty-second birthday in a studio about this size. Now he had two degrees and a  _ career.  _ Aziraphale swallowed, beginning to feel the full weight of what the last few years had  _ really _ been. 

“I’ll give you a moment,” Beelzebub said softly. Aziraphale nodded, but didn’t acknowledge them leaving the room. For a moment, Aziraphale let the sounds of the party echo down the hallway. He took a steadying breath, slowly exhaling. This was his office. This was where he worked. These were his friends, no. This was his family. 

There was a soft knock at the door, and Crowley was in the entrance. 

“Bee said I’d find you here,” He said gently. “Everything alright?”

Aziraphale nodded, giving him a tired smile. “It’s wonderful. Anthony it’s all so very wonderful. I just… I just wanted to take a moment.” 

“Of course,” He said, “Do you want me to leave?”

Aziraphale  _ furiously _ shook his head, and Crowley gave a soft chuckle at how his curls bounced at the effort. Crowley stepped forward, hugging Aziraphale close. His angel snuggled into his chest, and Crowley tucked his head under his chin. They stood there for a moment, taking in the empty space. 

“Let’s head out,” Crowley whispered, “I made some dinner plans for us,  _ just the two of us.”  _ The last part was said as a whisper against her ear, and it made Aziraphale smile up at him. 

“Of course my dear,” Aziraphale said. “Wherever you wish to go.” 

It turned out  _ wherever Crowley wished  _ was the  _ Ritz _ . 

“Just wanted to take you somewhere nice, to celebrate tonight,” He said, giving a psuedo-casual shrug that underlaid the gravitas of where exactly they were. Aziraphale have half a laugh, half a squeal. 

“I can’t believe you took me here,” He clung to Crowley’s arm, giving him a wide smile. “My love it’s too much.”

“Not nearly enough,” Crowley disagreed, and Aziraphale leaned up to give him a kiss. 

They were led to their table, and Crowley watched as Aziraphale confidently placed both their orders. After over five years, he knew exactly what Crowley would want, and he was right. Of course, Aziraphale was still asked to show his ID after ordering wine, but so was Crowley. 

“I don’t look too young to be here,” Aziraphale whispered testily to him. Crowley snorted. 

“You do, but that’s not why,” He smirked. “They can’t believe we’re here  _ together  _ angel.” 

“That’s not it at all,” Aziraphale said, “Besides, I’m hardly the bright young thing you met five years ago. I’m twenty-seven now. Probably too old for you.” 

Crowley let out a derisive snort. “Yeah, that’s it,” He rolled his eyes playfully. “You wear glasses and tartan, I can hardly take it.” 

Aziraphale gave a little giggle at the sarcasm. “That’s the stereotype with sugar daddies, isn’t it?” He grinned. “When their baby gets too old?”

Crowley leveled an intense look that made Aziraphale laugh. “You’re not spending time with Ligur anymore,” He said. 

“I’m only kidding,” Aziraphale said, “I know that’s not what this is. Well. It is a  _ little. _ You  _ have  _ to admit.” 

“We’re not at work, I don’t have to admit to anything,” Crowley denied, but he knew it was true. Instead, as they were served their food, he decided to shift gears. 

“I got you something,” Crowley said excitedly. 

“What?” Aziraphale half-gasped, half-exclaimed, “You cannot be serious. It’s not enough that we’re  _ here?”  _ He made an abortive hand gesture. It looked like he was referencing the potted plant the restaurant had placed for decoration, but Crowley knew that he was referring to the fact that they were at the Ritz. 

“Well we’re celebrating, this isn’t a present,” Crowley smirked, “Clearly it’s different, didn’t you go to law school? I’m sure your teachers taught you how to  _ differentiate _ .” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, “Don’t argue semantics with me. Your father told me I’m better at it then you.”

Crowley grinned, and pulled two envelopes out of his pocket. He slid one of them across the table to Aziraphale, who took it, confused. 

“Open it.” He encouraged, and Aziraphale did, revealing a vacation request form that had been filled out in his name. 

“I’m… approved for a vacation?” He read out, “Crowley, I’m confused.”

“You’ve been working nonstop since I met you,” The attorney explained. “First it was managing that channel, then it was on getting into school, then it was on  _ staying  _ in school. The only times you take it slow are when I literally tie you down.” 

Aziraphale hushed him, glowering. “There are  _ people  _ around, you fiend,” he hissed. Crowley snickered. He couldn’t believe that this was the same Aziraphale, who was wearing his lovely navy suit with the bloody  _ tartan _ accents, had once had thousands of subscribers watch him masturbate almost nightly. But he didn’t say that out loud, because he needed Aziraphale in a good mood.

“So I wanted you to  _ actually _ take a break before jumping into this next chapter,” he continued, as if Aziraphale hadn’t hushed him. “I booked a surprise for you, for us to do.” With that, he slid the second envelope across the table. 

Aziraphale swallowed, taking the second envelope. He opened it carefully, as if it could bite him. As he opened the letter, his eyes widened to see two tickets. 

“Are these… plane tickets?” He asked, his hand covering his mouth. 

Crowley nodded. “Two plane tickets. To Paris.” 

Aziraphale let out a wiggle. “I’ve never been on a plane before! Wait,” He paled, “You need a passport to go, don’t you?” 

“It’s alright,” Crowley reassured, “When Hastur took you to get your license he had you fill out the necessary paperwork.” 

“Hastur,” Aziraphale growled, in a way that reminded Crowley of the way he would growl his name. “I  _ knew  _ I was filling out too many forms at the DMV!” 

Hastur had taken him in the height of his exams to finally get his license. Aziraphale had protested, but he had insisted. The driver promised it would be good stress relief, and he had been right. Aziraphale was sure he had terrified his instructor by how methodically and aggressively he had followed all instructions, but at the end of the day it was a  _ test _ and Aziraphale  _ refused _ to fail a test. But apparently it meant he had been nervous enough to fill out whatever form his friend had asked. 

“You’ll love Paris,” Crowley said, “We’ll look at art, we’ll walk along the Seine, you’ll try crepes.” 

“I’ve never had a crepe,” Aziraphale mused, “They sound nice though.” 

“You’ll love them,” Crowley promised. “And the best wine is in France.” 

Aziraphale smiled, and did another little  _ wiggle.  _ Crowley swallowed. The wiggles. One piece of many that made up this wonderful, wonderful person that he was in love with. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Crowley grinned. “Aziraphale, do you have any idea how much I love you?” 

Aziraphale blushed, looking down. For over five years Crowley had said this to him, but everytime it took his breath away. 

“I can hardly believe,” He said, looking back up at Crowley. “That I get to feel a love like this for you.” 

“The first time we came here,” Crowley began. He reached across the table, and Aziraphale took his hand. “The first time we came here,” Crowley said, “You told me about a plan you had for the future, and you let me be a part of that plan. And I’ve loved being part of this for you. My hope is that I can stay with you, and be part of your plan. That  _ maybe  _ your next five years can include me.”

Before he could stop himself, a  _ sniffle  _ escaped Aziraphale, who gave a mental curse at making a noise he didn’t control. “Excuse me,” He whispered, “You’re words are making me  _ tear up  _ my darling, please don’t let me spoil this.”

Crowley smiled. “Do spoil it,” He laughed. “Just be yourself. I told you I wanted the reactions you  _ still  _ practise in the mirror, and the ones you can’t help but let slip. You think I don’t know, that when we go to court, you’re going to practise the faces you’ll make in the mirror? Darling I  _ know _ you. But I hope you didn’t practise this reaction.” 

He reached into his coat pocket, and slid from his chair to kneel on the ground. From out of his coat pocket, he had a box in his hand. 

“Oh good lord,” Aziraphale gasped, covering his mouth with both hands. Tears were filling his eyes and his heart began hammering. “Is this really happening? Crowley, what are you doing? Crowley what is this?” 

The joy - the sheer happiness and delight filled his entire self. He sniffled, trying to pull himself together. 

“You let me wear eyeliner,” He mock-hissed, and Crowley laughed. They were already attracting the attention of people around them. 

“I did let you wear eyeliner,” Crowley said, pulling Aziraphale’s left hand - the arm wearing the watch - in to his hand. With a flick of his thumb, Crowley opened the box with his other hand. “And I promise you look as beautiful as you always do.” 

Aziraphale laughed, trying to reign in his ridiculous crying. Just like when they had confessed everything to each other. 

“Please please please ask me so I can stop crying,” Aziraphale begged, and Crowley laughed. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, “Don’t ask an attorney to rush his closing statement.” 

This time, Aziraphale laughed so hard he covered his entire face. Crowley waited a moment for him to take a breath, and then smiled at him. 

“I love you, and when we go to Paris I want us to go as an engaged couple. For us to spend the next five, ten, fifty years of our lives together. To handle court cases together, to practise speeches in mirrors together, and celebrate every moment together. So will you marry me? Make me the happiest person in the world?”

“I can’t do that,” Aziraphale said, giving the widest smile Crowley had ever seen. Aziraphale squeezed his hand, “Because I’m afraid I’m the happiest person right now, because I’m going to get to marry you.”

Fuck, Crowley had to wipe at his own eyes. Aziraphale had gotten him. “I’m afraid I need a definitive answer love,” He said and Aziraphale laughed. 

“Yes! Of course it’s a yes! It’s always been a yes - I’ve always wanted you for as long as you would have me, so I finally get to have you forever.” 

They both ignored the cheers and applause from around them as Crowley slid the ring onto his finger. Later, Crowley would show him the inscription on the inside of the ring, ‘Angel of my heart’, and Aziraphale would cry again at the sappiness. Later, Aziraphale would call Hastur and Anathema, while Crowley would text Lucifer, Beelzebub, and his father that the proposal had been a success. Their phones would then start going off as word spread to the rest of their little circle about what had happened, with money being requested on different apps as Newt won the bet of when they would get engaged. 

Later, they would turn their phones off so they could walk through the park, just the two of them, like they had done the very first night they met. 

As if they were the only two people in the world.

After all, they were in love, and they had each other. 

The world could wait a moment longer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man oh man oh man looks like we made it! 
> 
> I was able to change my tumblr username to Shay Moonsilk! If you have ideas in this world let me know! Down the line I may write smut and more hurt/comfort I didn't have time to get to.


	7. UPDATE ABOUT THE STORY

Hello!

I apologize, this is not a chapter. But I wanted to share that there are planned one-shots in this world, and this story is now a series! There is already a second update. 

You can notice the series 'Sweet Series' and check it out for updates. If you have ideas, or if you feel drawn to write anything in this world, let me know :) I don't own anything, and if we can get more sugar daddy Crowley then that would be some ineffable work right there. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! I take constructive criticism and feedback. :) Hang out with me on Discord (Shay_Moonsilk) or on Tumblr (GoodOmensAndRecreation)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sweet Holiday](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21936178) by [SparkleInTheStars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkleInTheStars/pseuds/SparkleInTheStars)
  * [[Podfic] Sweet Temptation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26602489) by [Literarion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Literarion/pseuds/Literarion)


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